With A Vengeance
by Lady Emily
Summary: The Hardy boys run into Nancy Drew under a strange and sad set of circumstances.
1. Prologue

A/N: Hi, everyone. This is a little something I just sat down and wrote today, just a short prologue to a story I've already started writing. As always, I can't promise regular updates, but I will get the next chapter up very soon. Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys and am making no money from the writing of this story.

* * *

"I didn't want to have to do this to you boys." the man said with a shrug, pulling back the hammer of the deadly-looking revolver gripped expertly in his right hand.

Frank Hardy desperately tried to form an escape plan, but the sight of the loaded gun leveled casually at his brother caused panic to overwhelm his brain. "Don't do this. Please."

Joe's eyes flickered between his older brother's pleading expression and the cold gaze of the gunman. This was it. There was nowhere to go. An open-and-shut mob ties case, a chase gone wrong, a single suspect turning the tables on them... that was all it took. And here they were, a dead-end in a dingy back alley in a bad part of New York, where no one would come even if they screamed for help. He squared his jaw and stared into the barrel of the gun, his heart pounding ceaselessly in his ears...

A clomp sounded from a nearby fire escape, the sound of footfall on metal echoing through the silent alley. The gun did not waver from its intended target of Joe's forehead, but the man looked up and to his left, just for a moment. That was all the time it took for the lithe figure of a woman to drop from the fire escape, her boot connecting with his jaw with a solid snap. The gunman fell to the ground. Conscious and in pain, he redirected the revolver at his attacker, but one stomp on the wrist sent the gun skittering harmlessly across the asphalt. Frank and Joe watched in disbelief as the girl, hair hanging loosely around her face, kicked the fallen man savagely in the face not once, but three times. Bruised and beaten, his head lolled back, blood dripping from his nose and mouth into a puddle on the street.

Their savior took a step towards them, into the dim light of the flickering back-stair lamp. With one hand she brushed her long hair back from her face. It shone red in the lamp's glow. The other hand rested on her waist, her bare midriff. "Frank. Joe." There was mild surprise in her voice.

For their part, the Hardys were frozen in stunned disbelief at the sight of Nancy Drew.


	2. Something Wrong

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I told you I'd have this chapter up in a jiffy. (Some of you are going to hate me by the end of it, but oh well.) Please review!

Disclaimer: See Prologue

* * *

For a moment, Frank couldn't find a word to speak as he looked into the face of Nancy Drew. He wasn't sure what shocked him more- her savage disposal of the gunman or her physical appearance. Her tall, slim figure was barely obscured by her dirty cutoff jean shorts and revealing tank top. The angry pink of a long, shallow cut marred her throat, and there was a band-aid on the tip of each finger on her right hand. A fading yellow bruise marked her cheekbone, and her normally bright blue eyes had a dark, haunted look to them. Frank exchanged an incredulous look with Joe, whose shocked and concerned expression mirrored his own.

"Nancy." Joe spoke first, always trying to relieve the tension. "I guess I owe you one."

Nancy's dark gaze softened as she looked at the younger Hardy and for a moment Frank saw the Nancy he knew in her half-smile. "No, let's call it even." she answered. "You're just lucky I was around."

Joe nodded slowly. "I guess we were." He looked back at the still-bleeding form of the gunman. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Nancy acknowledged. "Now, did you want to get this scumbag down to the station or should I?"

"We'll take care of it." Joe said. He walked over and knelt beside the clearly-unconscious man, checking for a pulse in his neck. "You really did a number on him." he remarked conversationally, pulling out his cell phone and dialing the police.

Nancy did not respond, and Frank, finally trusting himself to speak, took a step closer to her. "Nancy," _What happened to you?_ his mind was screaming, but from her hard, beaten look he knew that he would have to be tactful with this new, dangerous Nancy. "Are you on a case? How did you find us?"

"I guess you could say I'm on a case." Nancy replied with a bitter smirk. "As for how I found you..." she gestured up at the building on their left and Frank noticed for the first time that it was a dilapidated hotel. "I saw the whole thing from my window. Home sweet home."

_She must be joking,_ Frank thought. The idea of Nancy living in a dirty, crime-ridden neighborhood like this wasinconceivable_. She's on a case, it must be a cover. _But he knew he was only kidding himself. This was not a joke and Nancy was not simply playing a part. Something was very wrong. He took another step forward, noting that at this short distance her tough facade began to crumble- her hands were shaking badly. He reached out and took her left one in his own. It was cold, dirty, and unresponsive. "Nancy, are you alright?" he asked in a low voice, his gaze troubled, almost fearful.

"I'm fine, Frank." she answered coolly. Her eyes met his own but there was no connection; the mutual understanding the pair usually shared was conspicuously absent.

How could this be? Frank was still racking his brain, trying to fill in the gaps between the last time he had seen her and now. He and Joe had solved a case with her only six months ago, and though their correspondences had stopped suddenly soon afterwards Frank had just assumed she'd been busy... it had only been a few weeks... He suddenly felt guilty. Whatever was going on here, he and Joe should have known about it. They would have been here for her. _**I **__would have been here for her._ He reached out and tucked a strand of reddish-blonde hair behind her ear, his thumb gently lingering over the sickly yellow bruise on her face. "Nan... How can I help?"

Nancy shrank away from his touch. "You can't." she said shortly, retreating. "I have to go."

"Wait, Nancy." Frank did not release her hand.

She pulled it from his with a pained look. "Frank..."

"Stay with us for a while? At least until the police come. Maybe we could get dinner." Frank suggested desperately. Although she seemed perfectly capable of holding her own, he somehow did not want her to be alone now.

"No thanks." she answered. "I'm sure you and Joe can take it from here." She was backing out of the alley now. "You stay out of trouble, now." she said to Joe with a hint of sarcasm as she left, turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

Frank was still trying to process everything that had just happened. He went to Joe, who was still on the ground, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "What was that all about?"

Joe shook his head. "I dunno. I've never seen Nancy like that. I thought she was going to kill this guy." And as an afterthought- "Did you see the way she was dressed?" At a glare from Frank he shook his head, indicating that he hadn't been talking about Nancy's liberal display of skin. "It wasn't like her. Something's wrong, Frank."

The screech of approaching sirens told them that Joe's phone call had been heeded. Frank looked down at the unconscious thug and then stared off in the direction Nancy had gone. "I know."

* * *

It wasn't until they had finished talking to the police that Frank and Joe came back to the topic of their old friend.

"Joe, I've been thinking." Frank started. "Do you still have Bess's phone number?"

Joe furrowed his brow. "I think so." He pulled out his cell phone and confirmed it. "I have Nancy's too, you know."

Frank shook his head. "Something's telling me she wouldn't answer if we called. If she even still has that phone, that is." He sat on the bed in their upper East Side hotel. "I think we need to find out what's been going on with Nancy. I'm betting Bess will have all the news." Bess Marvin was one of Nancy's best friends. She always had the latest gossip, and she had a particular soft spot for Joe.

Joe nodded and dialed. Bess picked up on the second ring. "Joe Hardy! It's been a while." she said, with a false brightness in her voice. "How come you never call me anymore?"

"I'm calling you now." Joe teased back, gently. "Listen, Bess, we need a favor."

"Mm?" Bess made a noncommittal murmur.

"It's about Nancy. We saw her today, but she didn't stay and talk... Bess, do you know what's going on with her?"

Bess gasped. "You saw her? Where? Is she alright?" Before Joe could answer, she continued, "Tell her to call her father, Joe. He's worried sick about her. Just a phone call."

Joe was struck by the sadness in Bess's voice. "Yes, Frank and I saw her, Bess. But she's not with us now." he hesitated, trying to decide how much of their encounter to divulge to the girl. "She's not looking too good. She looked... tired. And sad. When is the last time you saw her?"

"It's been about, I dunno, three, three and a half months." Bess answered. Her voice sounded shaky now, like she was on the verge of tears herself. "No one knew where she went. She left without saying a word to anybody, not me, George, her father. Where is she, Joe?"

Joe wasn't sure if he should tell her. She sounded like she was ready to jump on a plane and run to Nancy's side at a moment's notice... and what would she find? "She's in New York." he said, being deliberately vague about which part of the city she was currently residing in. "Why did she run away, Bess? What happened to her?" Frank was by Joe's side, listening intently, trying to make out Bess's side of the conversation. From Joe's side, though, he could piece it together... and the picture it was forming wasn't pretty.

"What happened to her?" Bess repeated in disbelief. "You didn't hear? Joe, Ned is dead."


	3. Fracture

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! Wow, look at me. Three chapters in three days- when will I stop? As always, please let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: See Prologue

* * *

"What?" Joe said dumbly. He had to admit he hadn't expected to hear that Nancy's boyfriend was dead. Then again, it did explain a few things, now that he thought about it. He turned to Frank. "Ned is-"

"I heard her." Frank said with a grim nod. He ran a hand through his dark hair. What a mess. How could he not have known?

Joe was thinking along the same lines, and said so to Bess. "Why didn't anyone tell us?"

"I don't know." Bess said, slightly irritably. "No one felt much like talking about it at the time. It was all over the news- maybe you and Frank were out of the country or something."

Joe considered this. He and Frank and their parents had taken multiple trips out of the country over the summer, both for cases and vacation. It was possible. "No one mentioned a thing. I mean, Frank and I stopped getting emails from her, and she and Frank stopped talking on the phone all the time... we just didn't think much of it..."

Bess sighed. "Don't feel guilty Joe. People fall out of touch. It happens."

"We're way out of touch." Joe said forcefully. "Ned died and Nancy ran away, abandoning all her friendships and her father, and we don't hear a word about it?"

"Look, Joe." Bess lowered her voice. "It was nothing personal. It's just, you know how Nancy and Frank's relationship has always been. Calling him about Ned's death would have been... I don't know. An insult to Ned. It would have made things confusing, and Nancy was already under so much emotional stress-"

Joe was filled with defensive outrage. "You know Frank would never hurt Nancy!" he hissed, momentarily forgetting that Frank could hear him.

"Don't be such a hothead." Bess ground out. "Of course Frank wouldn't hurt Nancy. He's a good guy. I said it wasn't personal. Besides, it wouldn't have mattered much if you did come. She left a few days after the funeral. Took a couple of suitcases, took the train. She left that stupid Mustang of hers in the driveway, neither Mr. Drew nor Hannah will touch it. Never calls, doesn't keep in touch with anyone. Her father even tried to use his contacts to track her down and convince her to come home, but she's got assumed names. She doesn't want to be found." There was anger in Bess's voice, but it was obviously stemming from worry.

"Well she's been found." Joe said at last. "And we don't know what to do with her." he looked over at his brother, whose eyes were closed, a sign that he was both listening closely and thinking deeply.

"Do you want my opinion?" Bess offered softly. When Joe said nothing, Bess continued, "Help her. Don't let her get away from you too."

"How are we supposed to help her?" Joe said incredulously. They hadn't even known she was in trouble until a few hours ago!

"I don't know." Bess said quietly. "I couldn't manage to do it." Bess's own guilt at her failure to ease her friend's pain was evident in her voice. She paused, then, slowly, as if the idea were just forming in her mind, she said, "You know, when Ned was first killed it was too early for Frank to step in. It's been four months. Maybe he can help now."

Joe glanced at Frank again. His head, eyes still shut tightly, was now being supported by his hands. His facial expression was similar to the one he had had in the alley today, when the gunman was about to shoot Joe- defeated, yet frantically determined. Suddenly something Bess had said stood out in Joe's head. "Wait, you said before that Ned died. Now you're saying he was killed."

"They're the same thing." Bess said. "But it's worse than that. He was murdered. And Nancy thinks it's her fault."

"How did it happen?" Joe breathed. It touched a chord in him; he knew that feeling very well.

"It was a mugging." Bess answered. Joe could tell that she was trying to keep the emotion out of her voice, to tell it factually and not personally. "Nancy was investigating some robberies and vandalism in Chicago. It eventually led her to some small-potatoes, petty-criminal street gang. She and Ned were walking in their turf, I guess, and they got jumped. Nancy... Nan told me the whole story. In detail." Joe could tell by the pain in Bess's voice that it had been as hard to hear as it had been to tell.

"Apparently the guys just wanted to rough them up, you know, scare them off... they... they grabbed Nancy first, I guess, held a knife to her throat. Before Ned could do anything, they were surrounded, outnumbered. The gang members just... beat them up. Blacked both Nancy's eyes, broke Ned's arm. When they were done they just threw them on the ground. Nancy hit her head. She was knocked unconscious, she had a concussion. Ned..." Bess paused when her voice broke. "Ned's head hit the curb and... and fractured."

Joe felt sick to his stomach. He could hear Bess struggling to contain her dry sobs on the other end of the line, and he wanted to tell her it was okay, that she could stop, she didn't have to tell any more. But before he could she mustered the strength to continue.

"People are easy to kill, I guess..." she mused tearfully. "We're fragile."

"Yes." Joe said hoarsely. He didn't look over at Frank to see how he was handling himself- it took enough concentration to contain his own emotions. His world at that moment felt contained between him and the phone- just him and Bess.

"Luckily Nancy was unconscious for that." Bess said finally. "She didn't see it happen. She didn't wake up until two days later... Ned was already gone by then."

"Oh, god." Frank whispered.

"What happened to the gang?" Joe asked after a long moment.

"Most of them are in prison, awaiting trial." Bess said. "The police saw to that while Nancy was recovering in the hospital. But..."

"But?" Joe prompted.

"Nancy seemed to think there was more. She told me once that there was a higher man, a ringleader. That the gang was just a side-operation for this man."

"Okay..." Joe said, right on the verge of understanding where this was going. He heard Frank draw in a long breath beside him and knew that Frank had already put it together.

"She said he was responsible for Ned's death." Bess told him. "She said, before she left, that he was going to pay... Joe, I think she might be trying to kill him."


	4. Rebecca

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed so far. It really means a lot to me.

Disclaimer: See prologue.

* * *

"No way, Bess." Joe said. "Nancy would never kill a person."

"Not even the Nancy we saw today?" Frank questioned, eyes still shut.

"I hope she wouldn't." Bess said. "But, I just don't know anymore. She really changed, Joe. She didn't just go back to the way things were."

"Of course not." Joe said slowly. "But... god, poor Nan."

"Joe, I was serious about what I said earlier." Bess reminded him. "She could get hurt. She could do something she will end up regretting. If I knew where she was I would go straight to her, and try to get her to see reason. Don't let her get away from you."

Joe nodded wordlessly into the phone, but it was Frank who answered- already standing, pulling on his coat, grabbing his keys. "We won't."

* * *

"You sure you want to get out here?" the cab driver asked skeptically. "I can't wait for you."

"Yes, here." Frank said, opening his wallet and handing the cabbie his fare. It was no wonder the man wanted to get out of the area. The neighborhood in the dead of night was even more dismal and intimidating then it had been earlier that evening. Frank clearly heard the buzz of the hotel's flickering neon "vacancy" sign as he and Joe exited the cab. In the distance, sounds of shouting, breaking glass, and the occasional yowl of a stray cat.

They entered the lobby of the hotel Nancy had indicated earlier, and waited several minutes before a dirty, unshaven man came into view behind the front desk. "You want one room or two?"

"Actually, we're looking for a friend of ours." Frank said. "A girl in her early 20s, about 5'7'', reddish-blonde hair..."

"Look kid," the man said, leaning over the desk. "I don't know every customer, okay? And it ain't a good idea to be comin' around askin' questions 'bout 'em, okay?" he sighed, surveying the two boys. "What's the girl's name?" he picked up a grease-stained guestbook and waited, eyebrows raised, for a name.

"Nancy Drew." Joe answered.

The man ran one fat finger down the list. "Nobody here with that name now." he said, somewhat suspiciously.

Too late, Joe remembered what Bess had said about Nancy's use of assumed names. "She might be under a different name." he said quickly. He exchanged a look with Frank- how could they possibly guess the name she might have used?

Frank could tell that their gracious host was growing impatient, so he quickly chose the first alias he knew for Nancy. "Rebecca." he said. "Try Rebecca Addison."

The man scanned the list again, but his eyes stopped halfway to the bottom. "Becca Addison." he read. "Room 212."

"Thank you so much." Frank called to the desk clerk as he and Joe made for the stairs. "What a lucky break." he murmured to his brother.

"How'd you guess Rebecca?" Joe asked, slightly awed. "We've seen her use a dozen fake names, and she could have come up with another at any time!"

Frank shrugged. "I figured if she is tracking this guy she'd want to be able to travel, so she'd want to use an alias that came complete with its own set of government paperwork." Rebecca Addison was the name Nancy had used on a former case with the Hardys, in which a man pretending to be a State Department agent had given them "undercover identities" while really using them to smuggle bomb parts out of the country. The passports and other documentation he had given them in their fake names had passed inspection at the airport... why shouldn't they continue to do so?

"Good thinking." Joe said appreciatively as they arrived in front of Nancy's door. "You know, I'm almost afraid to knock," he whispered. "What if she gets defensive and bashes our faces in like she did to that guy in the alley today?"

"If you're scared, I'll knock." Frank told him.

Joe rolled his eyes and knocked.

"Who is it?" An alert voice sounded from the other side of the door.

"Cole." Frank remarked wryly. He looked at Joe. "And Cooper." Cole and Cooper Addison, Rebecca's "husband" and "brother-in-law", were the personas the Hardys had adopted for the case.

"Guys, please." Nancy said after a moment. "Didn't you learn your lesson earlier? Get out of here, it's dangerous."

"Dangerous for us and not you?" Frank returned.

"I can take care of myself, _Cole._" she retorted bitingly, stressing his fake name. She sighed. "Frank, Joe, please. I'm asking you to go."

"We're telling you we're staying, Nan." Joe said quietly. "We know about Ned. Now let us in."

There was the unmistakable noise of a deadbolt being thrown, and then Nancy cracked the door open. She was clad only in a long t-shirt- it was, after all, nearly midnight. "You don't know anything about Ned." she said coldly. "Leave me alone." She tried to close it again but Joe had wedged his foot in the doorway. She sighed in resignation and held it open. "Fine. Come in. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Frank and Joe passed her on their way into the dark, dingy hotel room. The plaster on the walls was cracked and dirty. Drafts from broken panes of glass in the windows sent the yellowing curtains swishing restlessly. A sagging bed with cheap, rumpled blankets sat in one corner. In the other there was a table with a computer, a first aid kit, and several rounds of ammunition for a firearm, which, Frank suspected, was concealed behind her back at this very moment.

She proved him right by moving across the small room, setting her gun on the table, and leaning against it, obscuring the weapon from casual view. Both boys saw it, but her expression dared them to say anything. "We have a message for you." Joe said casually. "Call your father."

"I can't." Nancy said. "I'm not ready to talk to him. I'm not ready to talk to anyone." She leveled a glare at each boy in turn. "Including you."

"From what we hear, you've been not talking for long enough." Joe replied.

"Who did you call?" Nancy said accusingly. "Bess? George?" Her tone was harsh but her expression briefly bordered on wistful as she mentioned her friends.

"Bess." Frank confirmed. "She misses you, Nan. She says your dad and Hannah are worried sick."

"Yeah, everyone's worried." Nancy said icily.

"Nancy, I don't know what you're doing. You've been through an awful experience, but instead of taking comfort from people who care about you, you run away to some god-forsaken roach motel in the back streets of New York?" Frank's expression pleaded with her to see reason.

Nancy's nostrils flared at the words 'awful experience'. "Get out." she said through clenched teeth.

Both Frank and Joe were stunned by the venom in her voice. "Nancy," Frank made a last attempt to get through to her. "Please, just talk to me. Joe and I can help you, as detectives and as your friends. Whatever you're trying to do here. We can help you finish it. Nan..."

Joe cringed inwardly at his brother's pleading; it didn't seem to faze Nancy at all. He took a piece of paper from his pocket and scribbled some numbers on it. He put in on the table and slid it towards her. "Look, Nancy, let us buy you dinner tomorrow, alright? We're only going to be in the city a few more days. One dinner?" he proposed smoothly.

Nancy took the piece of paper he had slid to her. On it were three phone numbers- one for the hotel, and one for Frank's and Joe's cell phones. She nodded tiredly. "Fine. Now, please. Can you go?"

"Great! We'll pick you up here at 8." Joe said quickly, before she could change her mind. "Let's go, Frank." He grabbed his brother's arm and tugged him gently towards the door.

Frank didn't move. "How do we know you'll still be here?" he asked her.

"I'll be here." she answered. "I guess you'll have to trust me."

As she said it, her dark eyes met his and he found that, to his surprise, he did.

* * *

A/N: Okay, I'm going to be honest here... this is not my favorite chapter. The next one is going to be awesome though, I promise. Please review and I'll try to get it up within the next couple days!


	5. Small Victories

A/N: Warning- this chapter does contain some bad language. Matter of fact, I'm issuing a warning for the rest of the story: bad language. Probably not a lot, but it's there.

A/N: cjloverforever, I laughed when I read your review... you'll see why!

Disclaimer: See prologue.

* * *

"Come on, Joe. It's almost time to go."

Joe walked out of the bathroom in a pair of khakis, a cloud of steam following him. He was rubbing his hair dry with the towel clutched in his hand. "Frank, we've got plenty of time." he said, glancing at the clock. "Are you really worried she'll skip town? She said she'd meet us. I believe her."

"I believe her too," Frank said, lying back on the bed. "I just..."

"Want to see her?" Joe finished, grabbing a shirt and starting to pull it on.

On the bureau, Joe's cell phone rang. Frank picked it up and checked the caller I.D. "'Drew Home.'" he read.

"Answer it." Joe said.

Frank snapped open the phone. "Hello, Frank Hardy."

"Frank." the voice was instantly recognizable to him as Nancy's father. "It's Carson Drew. Bess gave me your number. I wanted to thank you and Joe for getting Nancy to call me."

Frank's eyebrows rose. It appeared that Nancy had had a change of heart about talking to her father. "You're welcome, sir. I'm glad she did."

"Me too." Carson said. "Me too. Frank, I don't know exactly what Nancy's into, but I'm sure it's dangerous." he sighed. "She said she wasn't ready to come home, and she wouldn't tell me where she was. I'm not going to ask you to betray her trust by telling me where she is, but I'm afraid for her, Frank. Would you and Joe keep an eye out for her, maybe point her in the right direction? ...I want my daughter back." his tone was forceful, but his voice trembled.

"Of course." Frank said firmly. "We're going to be meeting up with her in a little while. We're going to help her any way we can. I promise."

Carson chuckled bitterly. "Thank you, son. You know, I'm glad it was you who found her. Something tells me that if anyone can help my girl, Frank, it's you." he drew in a long breath. "And thanks again. That phone call gave me more hope than I've had for a while now."

"You're welcome." Frank said again, his mouth suddenly dry. "I-... We'll do our best."

"Goodbye then." Carson said reluctantly. "If there's anything I can do, you know how to reach me."

"I do." Frank replied. "Goodbye, Mr. Drew." He hung up.

Joe sat on the bed across from him, yanking on his sneakers. "What was that?" he asked.

Frank shrugged. "Nancy called home."

* * *

"You didn't have to get all gussied up for us." Joe teased gently as he and Frank stepped into Nancy's hotel room.

Nancy shut and bolted the door behind them. "Shut up, Joe." she answered, but there was no bite in her voice. The truth was, she couldn't even justify to herself the amount of care she'd taken in choosing her simple ensemble.

For his part, Frank was just glad she was finally dressed. Her faded jeans and gray, long-sleeved top were a far cry from the admittedly skimpy outfit of the day before. He felt more comfortable with her like this; except for the haunted eyes and bruises, she looked almost like she had when he'd last seen her six months ago. "You look good." he said quietly.

Nancy ignored him. "So where are we going?" she asked.

Before either boy could answer there was a soft knock on the door. "Becca, it's me." a soft, feminine voice said from outside.

Nancy's attention instantly deserted the Hardys. Brushing past them, she unlocked the door and it swung open to reveal a petite dark-haired girl in her mid-twenties. She would have been pretty if her delicate features had not been marred by a black eye and an oozing split-lip. "Oh, Jill." Nancy said with a sigh, ushering the girl in and again closing and bolting the door. "Tom came back, that slime."

The girl nodded in response, eyes nervously surveying Frank and Joe. She did not address them directly, however. Instead, she sat and took the wet washcloth Nancy offered her, wiping the blood from her face.

Nancy sat next to her, pushing back the girl's long straight hair to see the full extent of the damage. "Besides the bruise it doesn't look too bad." she remarked comfortingly. "He didn't get any teeth, did he?"

Jill opened her mouth, showing two rows of white, unharmed teeth. "Not this time." she said, with some relief.

"What else?" Nancy asked tentatively. Jill wouldn't have showed up at her door for a warm washcloth.

In answer, Jill held out her right hand to Nancy. Her middle and ring fingers were red and swollen, clearly broken.

"Oh, Jill..." Nancy said again. She took the girl's hand, holding it tenderly in one of her own while reaching for the first aid kit with the other. "You need to break it off with him, Jilly." she said evenly, obviously having said the words before.

Jill shook her head miserably. "He'd find me. You know he would. He and his friends would find me and kill me."

Nancy gritted her teeth together in anger, yet her hands remained steady and gentle as she wrapped Jill's injured fingers with medical tape, splinting them to her pointer and pinky fingers. "Men are scum." she ground out in disgust.

"And yet you've got two." Jill remarked wryly, indicating Frank and Joe with a tilt of her head.

Nancy smiled tiredly at the boys. "They're not mine." she said. "Just some old friends from out of town. Jill, this is Frank and Joe. Guys, my neighbor, Jill." Having acknowledged them, she turned her attention back to Jill. "Tom's not still...?"

"No, he's gone." Jill said quickly. "He probably won't be back for a few days."

Nancy nodded, finishing with the tape and snipping off the loose ends with a small pair of scissors. She returned Jill's hand to her, then got up and went to the sink, returning with two aspirin and a paper cup of water. "Someday I'm going to take care of that man, Jilly. When I get my hands on him..." Her eyes were dark, tendons stood out in her forearms as she clenched and unclenched her fists. "Once I make sure he's the one I'm looking for, he's going to wish he was never born."

Frank and Joe, who had been watching the scene silently from the sidelines, exchanged a glance at her venomous threat. Was she talking about the man Bess had told them about, the one who was responsible for Ned's death? By the fire burning in her eyes, Frank guessed that Bess was right- Nancy did intend to kill him.

Jill swallowed the aspirin dry, and followed them with the water. "I don't think Tommy's the man you're after." she said quietly.

"I think he is." Nancy replied. "And even if he isn't, he's still a disgusting, cowardly monster for what he's done to you. People like him deserve to suffer."

Jill stood up without acknowledging Nancy's statement. "Well, thanks for the patch-up job." she said, giving a wave of her bandaged hand.

Nancy nodded shortly. "Wait." she said as Jill moved for the door. She crossed to the bed and reached under it, withdrawing a large, rusty monkey wrench. She placed the heavy object in Jill's left hand with a smack. "For if they come back."

Jill shook her head, but tightened her grip on the wrench's handle. "Rebecca..." she sighed. "Thank you."

"We girls have to stick together." Nancy returned with a humorless smile. "I'll see you later." she said, letting Jill out. She closed and locked the door again, scrubbing her hand over her face defeatedly before straightening up and turning to face the Hardys, who were staring at her, once again, in disbelief.

"Is she going to be alright?" Frank asked after a moment. It didn't take a genius to piece together what had happened to Jill. Still, he supposed Nancy's tender reception of the girl was a good sign; she obviously cared about Jill. She hadn't completely shut herself off emotionally.

"I hope so." Nancy said in a low voice. "This isn't the first time this had happened. Her boyfriend, Tom, is a sadistic bastard. He's been hurting her for a long time. He's been hurting a lot of people for a long time." She was murmuring quietly, almost reflectively, to herself. She exhaled a cleansing breath and said, "I hate to say this, but I'm not much in the mood for eating."

Joe pursed his lips, glancing at his brother to confirm his response. "Yeah, us neither." He sat down on the bed, thinking about the wrench that Nancy had had concealed under it. She had never been one for carrying weapons, especially not guns. At least, not until recently. "Have you killed anyone, Nan?" He hadn't realized he was going to voice the question until it was already out.

Nancy quirked an eyebrow, surprised by the directness of the question. "No." she said, after a long pause. "I've hurt people, but never killed one. I haven't found him yet."

"Him- the leader of the gang that attacked you and Ned?" Frank asked, a chill running down his spine as he realized that her intentions could not be any clearer.

"Murdered." Nancy corrected. "They murdered Ned in cold blood, and this man ordered it." She jutted her chin defiantly. "And I'm going to kill him."

"Nancy, killing Ned's killer won't bring him back." Frank rationalized gently. "I know you're grieving, but-"

"It's easy for you to be noble, Frank." she snapped, cutting him off. "Who have you ever lost? How can you possibly know what it's like? You don't. You can't." She dropped her head and placed a hand over her forehead, obscuring her eyes from view. "Imagine watching someone you love be brutally destroyed and not being able to stop it. Imagine knowing who was responsible, imagine having the killer at your mercy..." her voice was becoming tight with unshed tears and rage.

Frank's breath caught in his throat as he looked over at Joe and saw the terrible light of understanding in his brother's eyes.

"I can imagine." Joe said.

Nancy looked up and her eyes met Joe's, and Frank suddenly realized that she had been talking to Joe and not to him all along. He felt trapped outside the conversation, looking in on an eerily intimate moment. "Well?" she asked.

"When Iola died, I was angry too, Nan. Really angry." Joe began unsurely.

"So you did something about it." Nancy said. "You found her killer, the man who set the bomb..."

Joe didn't respond, lost in a sudden barrage of memories. The unexpected, cataclysmic explosion that had shattered his world when it killed- vaporized- his girlfriend, Iola Morton. And then another image, that of her murderer dangling from the terrace in Bayport Mall, Joe's unsteady grip the only thing keeping the terrorist from falling to his death. He became very aware of the cool pressure of the fused lump of metal resting against his chest- the barely recognizable remnants of the car keys that had been in Iola's hand at the time of her death. He raised a hand to his neck and fingered the chain from which Iola's keys hung. "I found her killer. Al-Rousasa." Joe said with obvious strain. "I hated him, and I wanted him to die. I wanted to let go and send that son of a bitch crashing straight to Hell."

"But he didn't." Frank said loudly, defensively. This... emotional assault on Joe had gone on long enough. "Joe tried to save that man, Nancy."

Joe blinked at his brother, brought back from the edge by Frank's grounding statement. "Yeah, I did." he said slowly. "I couldn't do it. I hated him, yeah, but I wanted him to spend the rest of his life in jail, paying for what he did to Iola." There was a tinge of bitterness in his voice as he added. "Al-Rousasa is dead now, and it doesn't change a thing, Nan. He wanted to die at the end there- he chose death. It wasn't justice." His blue eyes bored intensely into hers. "I would rather have had justice."

There was nothing but silence for a long moment. Nancy closed her eyes and tears began to stream down her face. She moved straight into Joe's arms, and, with a helpless shrug at Frank, he pulled her into his lap and rubbed her back, holding her tightly as she broke down and sobbed. "Shh..." he soothed awkwardly, painfully aware that they were being watched by his brother. "It's alright, Nancy. Let it out..."

"I never got the chance to say goodbye." Nancy cried, her face buried in his shoulder. "I never said goodbye."

"I know..." Joe said with a wince. The way he and Iola had parted angrily just before she was killed still haunted him. He understood all too well the regret Nancy was feeling for not saying goodbye one last time. If Joe could do it over he would have apologized to Iola. He would have told her that he loved her and only her. "But it wasn't your fault, Nancy. You couldn't have known what was going to happen."

"It feels like my fault." Nancy managed between sobs. "If I hadn't been investigating in the first place, if I had fought harder... Joe, I was sleeping while Ned was dying!" she finished hysterically.

"You weren't sleeping, you were unconscious." Joe said. "Those men hurt you too. You're not perfect, Nan. You're human too." He rocked her back and forth. "Nancy, you didn't do anything wrong. You were a victim too." Joe thought ironically of how many times he had been on the receiving end of such words since Iola's death. It felt strange to be the one saying them, but Joe found that it was easier to believe them now than ever before. The mattress sank down on one side as Frank sat beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder in a show of support Joe hadn't even realized he needed.

Nancy curled her legs up into her chest. Joe's arms encircled her, and Frank's arm braced his brother's shoulders. And the detectives sat like that as the remaining sunlight slowly drained from the room, finally leaving them in darkness.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! Please keep it up- I love hearing your thoughts and opinions!


	6. Endanger

Disclaimer: See prologue.

* * *

Nancy's breathing had calmed, and the tears had stopped, leaving her eyes hot and puffy. In a warm rush of shame, she realized what an uncontrolled show of emotion she had just put on for the Hardys. Silently, she loosened Joe's grip on her and climbed out of his lap, her hanging hair obscuring her burning cheeks. Too embarrassed to say a word, she walked to the window and pulled the curtain, staring through the grimy panes into the dark alley below. Moonlight flooded the room and glinted off the tear tracks on her cheeks. She patted them dry with her right wrist, gingerly moving her bandaged fingers.

"So." Joe said, keeping his voice at a normal, steady level. "Anyone hungry yet? A lot of places will be closed, but I noticed a McDonald's two blocks down."

Frank frowned at Joe with an expression that said, _how can you think of food at a time like this?_

Joe shrugged and gestured at Nancy, who, without turning to face them, was nodding. "Okay, I'll be right back." he said, standing.

Frank stood at the same time and pressed a hand to Joe's chest, causing him to step back. "No, I'll go." he said with a cool finality that Joe didn't understand.

"You'd better be careful." Nancy said, her composure returned. She turned towards him. "Maybe we should all-" She was cut off in mid-sentence as the window's latch burst free from the wall. The window swung inward violently and smashed into her, showering her with broken glass. "Get down!" she shouted. Both Hardys instantly obeyed.

A man wielding a crowbar was standing on the outside fire escape with a menacing grin. "Well well well, if it isn't little Becky." he said, twirling the crowbar expertly and menacingly.

Nancy had stumbled forward at the blow and caught herself on the edge of the desk, quickly scooping up the revolver sitting on its surface. "Don't move." she hissed to the Frank and Joe, who were both crouched on the floor, hidden in the darkness of the room.

"We know it was you that got Sonny." the man said, leaning through the large window up to his waist.

"News travels fast." Nancy commented coolly, facing him, the gun obscured behind her back.

The thug reached forward and caught Nancy by the neck of her shirt, dragging her face towards his. "I didn't expect the chick who took out Sonny to be so pretty." he leered. "Maybe we could have a little fun before I bash your brains in."

"Depends." Nancy grunted, "On what you mean by 'fun'." She brought the handle of the gun down on the man's temple and he staggered back, releasing her. Then she swung it back and hit him in the jaw, hard. His head snapped back and he was suddenly on his back on the fire escape, spitting out blood and chipped teeth. She climbed out the window after him and ground a boot down on his wrist. The crowbar fell from his grip and clanged down the wrought-iron stairs, hitting the street below a few moments later with a resounding bong. "You're right." she said, breathing heavily. "This is fun."

"Bitch!" the thug growled. "I'll kill-"

Nancy brought her boot down on his throat and the remainder of his sentence was lost in a hissing, choking breath. "Listen." she said darkly. "You leave me alone. If I see you or any of your friends after me, you're going to be sitting in the cell next door to Sonny, and that's if you're lucky."

She took the man's choked-out obscenity to mean she was understood.

"And if you do see Sonny, tell him that it's damn cowardly of him to go after a couple of unarmed tourists." she added, lifting her foot from his neck. "Now get out of here." The man got to his feet and Nancy pushed the barrel of the gun into his ribs. "Go on." She kept the gun trained on him as he limped down the metal stairs and dropped into the alley. It wasn't until he was out of sight that she stepped off the fire escape and back into the apartment.

Frank and Joe were standing now. Frank flipped on the light as she came in and watched her cautiously.

"Sorry." Nancy said. "It was a bad idea to have you come here. I could have gotten you killed."

"You could have been killed." Joe said. He was ignored.

"Sonny was the man who tried to kill me and Joe, wasn't he?" Frank said slowly.

"Yes." Nancy said quietly. "And it sounds like he's not happy with his current living arrangements. We're lucky he's not a big player. Could have been a lot worse than one hitman." She brushed the shards of glass out of her hair and surveyed the broken window resignedly. "I'm going to have to get this fixed." she sighed.

"Nancy, Sonny isn't going to be in jail that long. Everyone knows it." Frank said insistently. "What happens when he gets out? He'll come after you, or he'll send someone else after you, and this time they won't underestimate you."

Nancy shrugged. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

Frank was stunned by her devil-may-care attitude with regards to the danger she was in. Did her own life really matter that little to her?

Nancy must have seen the look on his face, because she said, "Frank, I knew what I was getting into when I rescued you. I'm still glad I did it, aren't you?"

Frank said nothing.

"Come home with us." Joe spoke on impulse. "Back to Bayport. For as long as you like. You don't have to go back to River Heights, but you've got to get out of this place. We've got room. Mom and Dad would love to have you."

For a moment, Nancy appeared touched by his offer, but what she said was, "No."

"But-"

"No. No thank you. I can't." she said firmly. Her eyes lingered on Frank as she vehemently refused the offer. "Now, who wanted food?"

* * *

"Well that was great." Joe said, discouraged, as he kicked off his shoes and collapsed on the bed in their hotel room. "Nancy's in even more trouble than before and she's not going to leave the city. What do we do now?"

"How should I know?" Frank retorted,an uncharacteristic edge of bitterness in his voice. "She wants to be left alone, maybe we should obey her wishes."

"Are you kidding?" Joe asked, his head snapping towards Frank. "We can't do that! She's in serious trouble here."

"Well, what would I know about it?" Frank replied coolly.

Joe couldn't figure out what had his normally neurotic brother so indifferent when it came to Nancy all of the sudden. "Gee, I dunno, Frank. Maybe the fact that you know Nancy a whole lot better than I do hasn't occurred to you." he snapped. "I figured that if anyone could really be there for her-"

"If you say '-it would be you.'..." Frank cut him off in a low, dangerous voice. "I'm gonna deck you."

"What? Why?" Joe questioned, stunned by Frank's unexpected threat.

"Everyone thinks that I've got some magical power that is going to help Nancy!" Frank burst out. "Bess, Carson, you! Well I don't! I don't know how! I'm going to have to watch while Nancy self-destructs, and there's nothing I can do to stop it!" With a frustrated swing of his arm he sent the hotel phone flying off the nightstand and into the wall with a clatter. "Besides, she doesn't want _me_ to be there for her- she wants _you_!"

"Oh." Joe said, the reason for his brother's foul mood suddenly abundantly clear. It was a bit laughable. "Oh! No. Frank. Nancy was upset tonight, and she only came to me because she knew I could sympathize... there's never been anything between us but friendship. I'm like a brother to her. Or maybe like a cool cousin." he smiled, pleased with his analogy, before giving Frank a gentle poke in the bicep. "You're not."

Frank didn't respond, just continued to glare stonily, arms folded over his chest.

"Frank, you know she's loved you for a long time. That's why everyone thinks you're the only one who can bring her out of this."

Disgusted disbelief was evident in Frank's expression. "Oh, really? She loves me, huh? Joe, neither she nor I have ever even _discussed _being anything more than friends. And even if we had, something tells me she's not exactly looking for a new guy at this point."

"Give me a break, Frank. You may not have discussed it, but you've both considered it. I'm not stupid, I've seen the way you look at her, and the way she looks at you. And so have Bess, and Carson, Mom and Dad, George- heck, even Ned!" Joe shot back. "We've never called you on it before because we figured you'd work it out in your own time, but now you're running out of time, so you need to work it out now. And knock off this denial crap, because it's not going to work on me, Frank. I know you too well for that."

A muscle ticked in Frank's jaw. "You don't get to tell me how I feel, Joe." he said through clenched teeth.

"Okay, well how about this:" Joe said softly, backpedaling and trying a different approach. "When Iola died I went a little nuts. I could have ended up just like Nancy- but I had you. You were the one that kept me grounded, Frank. Forget what Nancy said. You have damn good firsthand experience here. And if you could help me through it, you can help her. That's why I think you're the one for the job." he shrugged. "I'm too close to the situation emotionally. Nancy almost tore me apart tonight- you saw her."

The anger visibly washed out of Frank at Joe's words, and he sank down onto the bed. "Joe..."

"And on a side note," Joe continued. "I'm not going to insist that you run to her side because you were made for each other, or because it's destiny or fate or karma or some crap that brought her to us yesterday, or even because I'm afraid for her. But if there's one thing I learned from Iola, it's that if you love her, you should let her know."

Frank stared at Joe for a long moment. "So, when did you get so wise?" he deadpanned finally.

Joe grinned, reaching around his shoulders and pulling him into a one-armed hug. "Please, brother. I've always been wise."

* * *

A/N: There's always a guy named Sonny, right? Anyway, thanks to all my readers and reviewers who are sticking with me here. I really appreciate it. And as always, tell me what you thought!


	7. Penitent

Disclaimer: See prologue.

A/N: Sorry for the lag in updates; life's been busy. And, as always, thanks so much for everyone who took the time to review. It means a lot to me. Enjoy!

* * *

"Frank! Let's go!" Joe had flagged a taxi, and he held open the door and waved his arm at his brother, who was lagging behind, talking on his cell phone. The cabbie was beginning to look impatient as Frank approached slowly. "Frank!"

Frank looked up and held out a hand, signaling for him to wait. Now that he was closer, Joe could see his brother's eyebrows drawn together in an expression of concern. As Joe watched, Frank looked at the phone and then closed it, as though the person on the other end had hung up before he could say goodbye. "What is it?" Joe asked.

"It was Nancy." Frank said slowly, confusion in his voice. "All she said was that she had let them get away. She sounded awful, Joe. She might have been crying."

Joe frowned. "She said 'them'? You think she meant Ned's killer?"

"I don't know." Frank answered. "Maybe."

"Do you think we should check up on her?" Joe asked.

Frank looked uncertain. "We're on our way to the meeting at the police station."

Joe shrugged. "Only one of us has to be there." The unspoken question hung in the air for several seconds. "She called you." he finally pointed out.

Frank nodded. "Okay." He looked slightly nervous, but said, "Thanks Joe."

"Hey, buddy? You going to get in?" the cab driver called to Joe.

"You take this one, I'll get the next one." Joe said. "And good luck."

Frank slid into the cab. "I'll call you later." he promised before closing the door and directing the cab driver to Nancy's hotel.

It was a long drive in the early morning traffic, and Frank's nerves really began to catch up with him. He was worried about Nancy, because of how she had sounded on the phone: weak and beaten, and he was worried about how she would act around him. Would she be glad he had come, or be resentful? Would she wish he had sent Joe instead? He tried to calm himself down. She had called him, not the other way around. She hadn't specifically asked for him to come, but he and Joe had been planning on finding an excuse to drop in on her again before they left the city anyway...

"Here we are." The cab driver finally announced, pulling over to the curb. He waited as Frank paid him and got out, and then sped away in the direction he had come.

Frank steeled himself to see Nancy as he approached her room. It briefly occurred to him that she might not even be here, that she had moved in an attempt to remain hidden from her enemies... and her friends. He took a deep breath outside her door and rapped on it softly with his knuckles. "Nancy? It's me, Frank."

He heard a thump and some pained breathing before the deadbolt slid back and the door opened, revealing Nancy in a very shocking state. Not only was she back in the low-cut top and short athletic shorts, but she was covered in blood- her clothes, arms, and hands were sticky with it. She had a once-white, bloodstained towel pressed tightly to one shoulder.

Frank's eyes widened. "God, Nancy! What happened?"

"Shh." Nancy said. "Come in." She opened the door and led him into the room. It was dark despite the early hour due to the plywood she had fixed over the broken window. The only light came from the desk lamp, which shone intensely on an array of first aid items. "No Joe?" she asked calmly, but Frank could see that her body was shivering.

"Not today." Frank answered. He watched in awe as Nancy removed the towel, exposing a deep gash in her right shoulder. A curved suture needle threaded with thick black string dangled from it, revealing what she had been doing before he had interrupted. As he watched, the unclosed portion of the wound began to well up with blood. "Nancy, you need to see a doctor." His eyes were filled with fear and concern.

She smiled ruefully, taking her seat at the desk. "Rebecca Addison doesn't have medical coverage." She picked up the needle. Her hand shook.

"Then let me do it." he said softly. He perched next to her on the radiator and adjusted the lamp to better see the torn skin. There was a steaming bowl of pink-swirled water sitting on the desk, and Frank dipped the edge of the towel in it before turning his attentions to her shoulder, gently wiping away the accumulated blood until he was able to see her stitches clearly- they were sloppy and uneven, she had done them left-handed. With his own left hand he pushed her shirt back from the wound, fully baring her shoulder. As he placed the hand on her skin he felt her quaking beneath it.

"You don't have to." she murmured, but made no move to stop him, instead surrendering the needle when he reached for it.

There was silence between them as he tenderly pushed the needle into her flesh, trying to keep his movements fluid to minimize the pain. Their breathing seemed to be the only sound in the world for a moment. Then she winced, ever so slightly, as he pulled the needle up, drawing the sides of the wound together. "Sorry." he whispered, blowing lightly on the wound to ease the sting.

She shivered again. "Don't do that." her voice was barely audible now.

Frank nodded and began his second stitch. "Tell me what happened." he requested, hoping to both learn the story and break the tension in the room.

"Tommy did it." Nancy said. "A contact of mine in Chicago called me yesterday, confirming that Tom was the leader of the gang that killed Ned. And when Jill called me last night, told me he had called her and said he was coming back to town this morning... I decided to go for it. I waited in his apartment; Jilly let me in." she took a deep, wavering breath. "He came in. The first thing he did was kiss Jill. Then he noticed me. He didn't recognize me at first, so I introduced myself. When he heard my real name he pulled his gun on me. I pulled mine at the same time. I told him about the gang, and how they had killed Ned." she sighed. "It was meant to be this big victory speech. I was going to remind him of what he'd done, and then kill him. But I didn't. He even dared me to." She shut her eyes tightly, remembering his taunts that she didn't have it in her, that she wasn't tough enough to kill a man, that she was a silly girl trying to play a man's game. "But I couldn't shoot." she whispered. her voice breaking.

"Oh, Nan." Frank murmured. Like Joe, she had apparently realized at the last minute that she wasn't able to murder someone in cold blood.

"I had the shot." she ground out. "He wasn't going to kill me, he was patronizing me. He knew I wouldn't do it. I had the shot and I didn't take it! And now he's gone!"

"But he did this first." Frank said, running a thumb over his stitches.

"Yes." Nancy said. "He shot me. It just grazed me, but it was enough to make me drop the gun." she recalled bitterly. "And then he grabbed Jill and pushed her out the door, and they made a run for it." A couple of tears leaked from her eyes. "It's... the fact that he took Jill that gets me. Tommy's a violent man. And if he realizes she was helping me, he could kill her. He's almost done it before, for less than that."

Frank's heart twisted. Nancy had come after this man intending to take revenge for what had happened to Ned, but had only succeeded in making a new friend, who was now another of his victims. "We'll help you find her." he promised. "Any way we can."

"I think they've left the city." Nancy said. "I called a few people and they all say he's heading out, laying low somewhere in the surrounding areas for a while. No one knows where." she hissed in pain as Frank finished his last stitch and tied the knot, slicing off the loose ends with his pocketknife.

"Sorry." he apologized again. He placed a piece of sterile gauze over the wound and secured it with medical tape.

"No, don't be." Nancy said. "You did a much better job than I could have." She looked up into his eyes and he noticed that they were not as dark as they had been. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Drew." he vowed quietly. Her shivering had ceased, but her skin was still damp and pale. "I think you could use a rest." he advised.

She smiled weakly. "It's not easy being me."

"If that gets infected..." Frank began worriedly. He stopped midway through his sentence and changed tactics. "Why won't you come stay with me and Joe for a while?" he asked. "You could get out of this dump and take a real rest, but you'll still be near the city, in case Tommy does resurface." he reasoned. "And Joe and I will help you look. Our dad has contacts in New York too..." he trailed off as he realized that Nancy was struggling to say something.

"Ned was mad at me when he died."

Frank blinked but said nothing.

"You know, I told him about the case we solved in Egypt. Everything, even that you and I kissed." she said slowly. "We broke up over it. We got back together a few weeks later, though."

Frank frowned. "You never told me that."

Nancy shrugged but didn't meet his eyes. "I didn't want you to think it was your fault. It wasn't. But after that Ned just couldn't stand the thought of you. I told him that the kiss was a mistake, that we both agreed that there was nothing but friendship between us, but I don't think he ever quite believed me. He never liked that we were such close friends, and he hated it when I went away to solve cases with you..." her voice began to tremble with regret and unshed tears. "A few days before he died he saw me reading an email from you- the one where you mentioned you'd broken up with Callie."

Frank felt slightly sick at her words. He remembered writing that email. It had been mostly just chatter, and he hadn't felt the need to keep his breakup a secret from her...

"He got angry." Nancy continued. "I guess... I don't know, I guess he thought that once I knew you were free I'd dump him and go running into your arms, or something. He wanted to know what was more important to me, my relationship with him or my friendship with you." A tear trickled down her face and she wiped it away. "He told me he was leaving and that I should let him know when I figured it out. I got angry too, and I didn't answer him. I _never_ answered him." she confessed brokenly. "And what's worse, I was going to choose you." She raised her tear-filled eyes to his. "Ned _died_ for me a few days later and _I was going to choose you. _How could I be such a horrible person?"

"You're not." Frank protested hoarsely. The sick feeling had only intensified as she told her story; the idea that he was such a big factor in the burden of guilt that she carried was starting to weigh upon him too. "Of course Ned was important to you. You were just upset, and you didn't know what was going to happen to him. Just because you fought doesn't mean he didn't love you, or that you didn't love him." Mentally, he recognized the parallels between Nancy's story and Joe's, noting the uncanny resemblance in circumstance between the deaths of Ned and Iola. _Should have sent Joe after all, _he thought regretfully.

She nodded. "I know, Frank. And I _did_ love him. But I definitely can't move in with you, don't you see? Because if I let you help me, then it's like he was right."

Frank reached out and stroked a thumb over her shoulder, just under the bandage. "He wouldn't want you to live like _this_, Nan." he said quietly, indicating the darkened room.

"I know." she said. "But I feel too guilty to do anything else."

Her tone told him that she was staying put until her penance was paid.


	8. Keeping Score

A/N: Hi, all... First off, please forgive me for my inexcusably long absence. You may or may not remember this story from... before I started college. I'm done now, so I've decided to finish it, as I always intended to do. It's been a while since I've written for Nan and the Hardys, and even longer since I've written for this story, so I would really love some feedback on this one!

You may want to reread this from the beginning in order to remember what's going on (I certainly had to), but in case you don't, here's the quick and dirty recap:

Frank and Joe Hardy are in New York City on a case, working for their father as private detectives. They are nearly killed by a mob henchman until Nancy Drew intervenes, coming out of nowhere to beat the man unconscious. The boys find their old friend much changed, as she has seemingly cut all ties to her old life, changed her name, and become a brutal and embittered vigilante. After a phone call to Nancy's old friend Bess, they learn that Nancy's boyfriend, Ned, was killed several months ago after being beat up by a street gang during one of her cases. They realize that Nancy is attempting to find the gang's ringleader, a man named Tom, so that she can kill him. The boys try to convince Nancy to give up her revenge mission and go home to her family and friends, but she refuses, although she eventually does call her father. Bess, Carson, and Joe are convinced that if anyone can get through to Nancy, it will be Frank, due to the special relationship they always shared.

Then Nancy finds and confronts Tom, who taunts her that she will be unable to kill him and shoots her in the arm, giving him time to escape. He takes his abused girlfriend Jill, a friend of Nancy's who lives in her building, with him. As Frank helps her stitch and bandage her arm, Nancy worries that Tom has left the city and that he might hurt or even kill Jill for helping Nancy find him. Frank invites her to stay in his and Joe's Bayport apartment and offers their assistance on the case, but Nancy refuses. She confesses to Frank that she and Ned had had an argument shortly before he was killed about whether her friendship with Frank was more important to her than her relationship with Ned. She reveals that she had been going to choose Frank, and that moving to Bayport with him now would feel like a betrayal of Ned.

* * *

Sleep never found Frank that night. He tossed and turned under the cheap hotel bedspread, thinking of gang members and open wounds. Worse, whenever he closed his eyes he saw Nancy, sometimes the embittered, hostile Nancy of the past few days, sometimes as he'd seen her this morning, wounded and defeated, her eyes begging him to understand and keep her secrets.

He hardly dared to think of _his_ Nancy—or rather, _Ned's _Nancy—the one whose eyes lit up when she'd finally puzzled out a clue, the one who chased criminals into the unknown, trusting and expecting that he and Joe would back her up. The one who could turn his knees to water just by smiling in his direction.

Could she ever be that girl again? Would finding Ned's killer bring her closure, enabling her to move on with her life? Or would the hunt warp her personality, turn her into a murderer, and leave her permanently broken?

Finally despairing of sleep, Frank made a decision. With a cautious glance over at Joe, sleeping in the other bed, Frank swung his legs to the floor, scribbled a note on the pad by the phone, slipped on his sneakers, grabbed his jacket, wallet, cell phone, and keys, and left the room.

Twenty-five minutes later he was once again walking down the dim halls of Nancy's hotel. Ahead of him, Nancy's door opened and she emerged, suitcase in hand. When she saw him, she froze.

Frank couldn't believe what he was seeing. Nancy was running again. "You're leaving again. You were going to run away without telling us." he said, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice.

She raised her chin defiantly, but there was guilt in her eyes. "I have to go." she said. Her voice seemed purposeless, slightly dazed. "Tommy is never going to come back here."

Frank took a step closer and saw that her cheeks were flushed with color. "Nancy, you're in no condition to go chasing after him tonight."

She frowned. "Don't tell me what to do, Frank." He took another step forward and reached out his hand to touch her face. She shrank away. "Frank, don't." she whispered.

He touched her face softly with the back of his fingers. "You're sick, Nan. You've got a fever."

"Oh." she said vaguely. Whatever she had thought he was going to say, that wasn't it.

"Let me see your arm." Frank requested, taking her by the elbow. "The wound could be infected; we should change the bandages."

Again, she wrenched away from him. "I can take care of myself." she insisted.

"I know you can, but I wish you would let me." Frank said gently. "I haven't been a good friend to you in the past couple months, and I want to make it up to you."

Nancy gave him a look of flat misery. "You're one of the best friends I have."

"Then do it for me." Frank said. "Come back inside, we'll get you something for this fever, and we can figure out a plan in the morning."

Reluctantly, wearily, Nancy acquiesced. She seemed even more lost and confused than usual, probably due to the fever, and Frank felt intensely thankful that he hadn't waited until morning to come see her. She would have been gone already, wandered off in a haze, and who knew what might have happened to her.

He coaxed her to lie down on the bed with a cool washcloth over her forehead, then knelt to dig her first aid supplies out of her packed suitcase. He found a bottle of fever reducers and brought a glass of water from the bathroom before tipping a couple into his hand and offering them to her, which she took obediently. Then he sat down beside her on the bed and pulled up her sleeve, exposing the yellowed gauze he'd fixed to her shoulder earlier. Nancy watched silently through half-lidded eyes as he gently peeled the tape off her skin.

The crooked stitches had held, and the blood flow had long since stopped. The edges of the wound were a little pink, but there were no signs that the infection was spreading. Disinfecting it once more, Frank rebandaged the wound, satisfied that he had done the best that he could for now.

"Nan..." Frank began to speak but drifted off. Somehow, in the time he had spent bandaging her arm, she had fallen asleep. Shifting on the bed so his legs were parallel to hers, he brushed the hair that had stuck to the damp washcloth back off her forehead and leaned back against the headboard to wait.

* * *

A ray of sunlight trickled through the boarded-up window and fell across Nancy's face, bringing her slowly out of a fitful sleep. Her throat was parched, and a throbbing ache thrummed in her shoulder. "...Frank?" she whispered.

"Better." Came the joking reply. She opened her eyes and saw Joe sitting in a chair by the bed, feet propped up on the nightstand, a magazine open in his lap. He flipped it closed and returned his feet to the floor. "How are you feeling?"

She paused and considered. "My arm hurts, but not as much as yesterday, I think."

"Good." Joe said. He handed her a couple of pills. "Take these. They'll help."

Nancy did, washing them down with a glass of water. "Where's Frank?"

"He went back to our hotel to shower, change, and pack before we check out. He wouldn't leave you until I was here to watch you. He was afraid you'd try to pull another disappearing act." Joe said with a disapproving look.

"I wasn't disappearing." Nancy protested. "I was just..." she sighed. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I just know that _here_ isn't the place for me anymore."

"I'm glad you feel that way." Frank said, entering the room with a suitcase in either hand. "Because I found you somewhere to stay. How are you feeling?"

Nancy sat up, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Better. But Frank, I told you, I can't-"

"It's not with us." Frank promised. "It's an apartment complex a few miles outside of Bayport. I know the owner and I was able to work out a deal for you. It'll be close enough so that Joe and I can get to you if you need us, but not close enough that anyone will be able to find you based on your connection to us."

"What?" Her aching shoulder forgotten, Nancy swung her legs off the bed and stood up, crossing her arms. "Why would you do this without telling me? I'm fine on my own and I don't need you and Joe babysitting me or making my decisions for me!"

"I'm just trying to help you-" Frank started, but Nancy cut him off.

"I never asked you for help!"

"Nancy..." Frank took a step backward, blocking the door as she tried to lunge past him and storm out.

"I can't talk to you right now." Realizing that she wouldn't be able to pass Frank without a physical confrontation, Nancy whirled around, throwing up the still-boarded window frame, and slipped out into the cool air on the fire escape. She climbed down half a floor until she was out of view of her room and sat down on the rusted ladder, stewing.

After everything she had told Frank yesterday, about Tommy, about Ned, about the fight she and Ned had had about _him_, how could he expect her to just drop her quest and move to Bayport with him? Hadn't she told him explicitly why she couldn't do that? And yet...

Somewhere deep inside she was tempted. What if she just... let go? Forgot about Tommy and got an apartment somewhere nice, got a real job that paid in money instead of tips and favors, visited her father and Hannah and spent time with her friends? Just let go of the fear and the pain and tried to mourn Ned in a normal way, as though his death wasn't her fault, as though it wasn't her responsibility to make Tommy pay. She felt a sudden, strong pulse of longing for her old life.

But she could never have her old life, could she? Not without Ned. And what would Ned say if she were to accept Frank's offer and move to Bayport? It would hurt him. There was no question.

The fire escape clanged and creaked as Joe clambered out beside her, taking a seat a few steps above her and dangling his feet out over the edge. "You alright?"

Nancy sighed. "I'm fine, Joe. But I can't move to Bayport. I already told him that."

"Why can't you?"

"Ned." she said quietly, somewhat surprised that Frank obviously hadn't relayed this part of their conversation to his brother. "I can't choose Frank over him. Not again."

Joe didn't know the whole story, and he knew it, so he tried to tread carefully. "That's not what this is. Of course you're welcome to stay with me and Frank at our apartment, or at our parents' house, anytime. But just moving into Bayport is not the same thing as moving in with Frank. You'd be miles apart; it's a whole little city, Nance, really."

Nancy managed a half smile. "I _have _been to Bayport before, Joe."

"So what's the problem?"

Nancy frowned, trying to put her objections into words. Somehow she'd thought Joe would have understood where she was coming from. "It's just that Ned thought that Frank and I-"

"Wait," Joe stopped her. "So this isn't about what you want, it's about what Ned wanted."

"No, it's-" Joe's words brought her up short as she thought about it. "Kind of. I know it doesn't make sense, but..."

"I know you know what happened between me and Iola." Joe said finally, when it became clear that she wasn't going to continue. "How she caught me flirting with another girl right before she died. She was upset with me, but she knew that I loved her, and I know she wouldn't want me to be alone forever just because she's gone."

"Of course not," Nancy said softly. "But you would never move in with the girl you were flirting with at the mall that day, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't." Joe said. "Because she wasn't important to me. I'd only known her a few seconds. It was a stupid, completely meaningless flirtation. If that's how you feel about my brother-... Look, Frank's never really talked about the way he feels about you—though I've pestered him to death about it, believe me—but I know you mean more to him than that, as a trusted friend if nothing else. I would hope you feel the same way about him."

Nancy twisted and untwisted her fingers through the iron railing. "Yes." she said, almost inaudibly.

Joe was quiet for a minute. "I know he wasn't gonna tell you this, but... you know who he talked to to get that apartment for you? Andrew Shaw."

Nancy was curious despite herself, but the significance of the name escaped her for a minute. "Who's-... You mean, Shaw as in... Callie?" If she was honest with herself, there had been several points in her life where Callie Shaw had been the only factor standing in the way of her pursuing a relationship with Frank. The last she knew, though, Frank and his longtime girlfriend were no longer together.

"Her father." Joe confirmed. "He and her mother live out in the country now, but he's the landlord of a bunch of apartment buildings in the area."

"And... and Callie?" Nancy asked. What was Joe trying to tell her? That it was safe for her to move to Bayport because Callie was still in the picture as far as Frank was concerned?

Joe shrugged. "She still lives in Bayport too." He twisted around on the tiny fire escape, trying to look her in the eye. "Look, Nance, when Frank and Callie broke up, it broke both their hearts. If I were in Frank's position, I probably wouldn't have had the guts to ask Callie's father to help you as a favor."

"Oh." Nancy said slowly. So Callie wasn't in the picture; it was just the opposite. They were no longer close enough that Frank could comfortably ask her family for help. She felt a surge of anger at Frank, for presuming that this interference was something she would want, and at Joe, for purposely telling her about Mr. Shaw in order to guilt her into accepting the offer. But that nagging pulse of longing inside her was touched by what Frank had done. "I need to talk to him." she said, standing up.

Joe flattened himself against the railing to let her pass. "Be my guest." he said. "I'm just gonna hang out here for a few minutes."

Climbing back into her apartment, Nancy saw her clothes and effects laid out on the bed, being carefully packed into her duffel by Frank, and felt the surge of indignation rise up again. "You're packing my stuff? I can't believe you!"

"Sorry, Nan, but we have train tickets back to Bayport in an hour or so and I don't want to miss it." he said, wrapping the hot plate's electrical cord around it carefully before tucking it into a pocket.

"_We _have tickets?"

"Yes, _we _do." Frank stood his ground. "We're not going to leave you, okay? Come on, Nan... If our roles were reversed, wouldn't you do the same for me?"

"No, I would have left you alone when you asked me to." she retorted angrily.

"Really?" Frank challenged, his eyes boring into her. Just a hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth.

Nancy visibly softened. "I don't know. No."

Frank took a step closer. "I know you don't want to drag anyone else into your fight. But we have to find a compromise. I know you know what it's like to find yourself in the middle of a case and not be able to rest until you solve it. Joe and I are part of this now, Nan. We can't leave you any more than you would be able to leave us. As of now, Hardy and Sons Investigations is officially on your case." He seemed like he was prepared for her to argue, and so was caught off-guard when she dropped her gaze to the ground.

"I can't pay you." It was a joke of sorts.

He actually chuckled a little bit. "Well Joe and I have been known to work pro bono from time to time. Or, we could call it payback for the way you saved our lives in that alley, if that would make you feel any better."

"No." Nancy said suddenly. "Let's not call it payback."

"Good." Frank said. "Because I don't want to keep score."

Their eyes met, and for a minute it felt like nothing had changed between them. "Okay." she said softly, lifting a pile of clothes and settling them into the duffel bag. "Me neither."


	9. Domesticity

A/N: A thousand times thank you to SinfulAshe, Really Cinderella, ilsablaine, Ealasaid Una, and to my anonymous reviewers for your feedback on that last chapter. I appreciate everyone's continued interest in this story despite the long hiatus! Please keep it up, and enjoy chapter 9!

* * *

"Hey bro. Nancy says she hasn't seen you since she moved in. What's up with that?"

Frank looked up from the file he was reading. "Good morning to you too, Joe. By the way, you're late."

Joe shut the office door behind him with his foot, balancing a bag of bagels and a tray of coffee in each hand and a manila envelope under his elbow. He set the food on his desk before turning back to Frank. "Don't be like that, you know I was out late on a stakeout last night. _And_ I brought you breakfast."

Frank accepted the cup of coffee Joe handed him. "Well, thanks. What's in the envelope?"

"Photographic evidence that Mr. Cain's little woman is indeed stepping out on him." Joe answered with a self-satisfied shrug, fanning the envelope back and forth.

"Nice work."

"Nah, it was pretty routine." Joe admitted, tossing the photos aside. He fished a bagel out of the bag and began spreading cream cheese on it. "And don't think you've sidetracked me from my original question: why haven't you been to visit Nancy?"

Frank leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I don't know. It's just that... she kind of indicated that she wanted to keep some distance between herself and me. She was feeling guilty enough over moving to Bayport; I didn't want to crowd her or anything. Besides, it's not like it's been that long. Only three days." he frowned. "When were you talking to her?"

Joe checked his watch. "Like... twenty minutes ago. Mom gave me a casserole last night and asked me to drop it off with Nancy. She's still worried that Nancy won't want her to visit... Though I gotta say, she's probably right. You know, I don't know why people always send casserole when they want to give someone food." he mused.

"Because they can freeze it if they don't want to eat it right away." Frank said absently. He leaned forward again. "So how is she doing?"

"Uh, fine, I think." Joe answered. "I mean, she's got herself some bedsheets, and a shower curtain, and a half-gallon of milk in the fridge, so I guess she's covered on the worldly goods front. Psychologically speaking, though, I don't know." He pointed his half-eaten bagel at Frank. "You should go see her. Tell her what you've come up with on her investigation."

Frank looked startled, then glanced at the closed door to their father's office. "I..."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Dad and I both know you've been working on her case since we got back, Frank. Which is why we haven't been harassing you for not working on our regular cases." he tapped the manila envelope again. "I coulda made _you_ follow Mrs. Cain."

Frank ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Joe. I didn't mean to neglect our cases, I just-"

"No, I didn't mean that." Joe cut him off quickly. "I know this is a special case, and I want to help Nancy as much as you do. I just meant that Dad and I can hold down the fort for a while. And if there's anything I can do..."

"I'll let you know." Frank said, shaking his head. "This guy, Tom Dawley, has a lot going on. Owns real estate all over the state, has credit cards, but rarely uses them. He's got three known aliases, and who knows how many unknown ones. Basically I'm tracing everything I can and asking some of our contacts to keep an eye out for him and Jill."

Joe nodded. "If you set enough traps he'll eventually trigger something."

"That's what I'm hoping."

* * *

"Nancy?" Frank rapped on the door of her apartment and nerves began to overtake him when she didn't answer right away. He took a step closer to the door and listened. No footsteps from within, no running water, no loud television. Was she not at home? And if she wasn't, where was she?

He knocked again, a little louder. "Nan? It's me." Still no noise from inside. Maybe she was asleep, but it wasn't likely; it wasn't even 6:30. Half a dozen nightmare scenarios cascaded through his mind without warning. Had she run away again? Had she solved the case and gone after Tommy all by herself? Maybe her wound had become infected, and she _was _inside, lying passed out on the floor... Subconsciously, his hand reached for the lock picking kit he always kept in the inside pocket of his jacket as he contemplated the merits of breaking in to check on her.

"Careful, there's a deadbolt." Came a voice from behind him.

Frank spun around, guiltily dropping his hand to his side. "What?"

Nancy dangled her keys out in front of her. "I saw you reaching for the lockpicks, Hardy. You know, you can't just go breaking into people's houses when they're not home."

"I..." he said with a smile, trying not to show how relieved he was to see her. Recovering his wits, he said, "Sure you can. It just takes a little practice."

Nancy snorted as she unlocked both the doorknob and the deadbolt. "So what are you doing here?" she opened the door and stepped back, silently inviting him in.

Frank stepped into the small living area/kitchen. She hadn't really done much with it since he and Joe had helped her move her few possessions in four days ago. The place looked clean, but very Spartan; white, blank, utilitarian. "I, um, I just wanted to see how things were going. Where were you?"

She frowned at him, indicating that she didn't like his questioning her, but answered anyway. "I was working." She shrugged off her jacket and tossed it onto the threadbare couch, revealing that the black skirt she was wearing was, in fact, part of a uniform. She was also wearing a short-sleeved red blouse with "Maxine's" embroidered on it, and a nametag that said "Nancy."

"You're working as a waitress?" Frank asked.

"Yeah." Nancy shrugged. "The place is close by, so I can walk. It's an Internet cafe. I was in there a couple days ago using their connection to do some research, before I got the wireless turned on here. They had a sign up saying they needed some part-time help, and I decided I could get a little head start on paying Mr. Shaw the rent I owe him."

"Yeah..." Frank said slowly. "But, a waitress?"

"I know how to do it; I waitressed for a couple of weeks just after I moved to New York. It's easy and it's part-time, so I can still focus on looking for Tommy and Jill." she said defensively. "What's so wrong with being a waitress?"

"Nothing." Frank said quickly. "It's nothing, it's just that... I don't know. I thought you might want to come work with us. Do the P.I. thing."

"Frank..." Nancy was frowning at him now. "It's just a job. Temporary. I'm not staying here forever, I'm not trying to-" she faltered slightly. "To build a life, or anything."

"Oh." he said, feeling a little stung. "But what about- Once you find..."

"Even if—when—I do..." Nancy said, haltingly. She pulled a kitchen chair away from the table and sank onto it. "I don't... I don't think I want to go back to detective work. After what happened to Ned..."

Frank sucked in a breath. Of course she didn't want to go back to detective work; her last case had culminated in the death of the man she loved. And yet, he was having a difficult time picturing Nancy as anything other than a detective. "Nancy," he leaned forward on the table. "Are you-"

She looked up at him. "It's not really up for discussion, Frank."

"Okay." Frank held up his hands, taking the seat across from her at the table. If there was anything he'd learned about this new Nancy, it was that putting pressure on her only ended up pushing her farther away. He changed the subject. "How is your arm?"

"Better." she said. "I mean, it's still sore, and stiff. And ugly. But I don't feel it all the time anymore, and it hasn't reopened or anything."

When she pushed up her sleeve to show him that she'd changed the bandage, he saw that the nails on her fingers were brutally short, exposing part of her nail beds. "You never told me...What happened to your hand?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing." Nancy said, dropping her hands into her lap.

Frank caught her gently by the wrist. "Your fingers."

Forced, now, to look at them, Nancy sighed. "They aren't very pretty, are they? But you can't exactly work in food service with band aids all over your hands." At Frank's insistent expression, she continued. "I had a little run-in with one of Tommy's underlings in Chicago. He wanted to know how I'd been able to find him. I wouldn't tell."

A sickening feeling bloomed in Frank's stomach. "And he tortured you."

"I'd gotten the intel from a friend of mine in the Chicago PD, but I didn't want him to become a target." Nancy said. She shrugged and gave him a little smile. "Hey, I'm just happy because I was worried they weren't going to grow back." He must have still looked pretty horrified because somehow she was the one comforting him. "Sure it hurt, but it was only a few fingernails. Besides, he's in jail now, I made sure of that. Really, it wasn't so bad."

Frank shook his head. "It just kills me that I didn't know about any of this, Nan. I wish I could have done something to help you."

"You're helping me now." Nancy said quietly. She extracted her hand from his and stood up. "Can I get you something to drink? Water?" she opened her fridge. "...Milk? Did Joe put this here?"

Frank smiled. "Yeah, I think he might've. I don't want anything, thanks." He watched as Nancy poured herself a glass of milk. "Has he been here every day?"

"Yes." Nancy said. "He doesn't usually stay long. I think he's just trying to make sure I'm eating, or something, which is ridiculous." She set down the glass. "Of course, not as ridiculous as you trying to break in and check on me."

"I wasn't going to break in." Frank protested.

"Uh huh." Nancy smiled, and Frank felt a familiar stirring in his chest. She sat down in front of him again and said, "I know you've been staying away because you're giving me space. Thank you."

Frank nodded. "Whatever you need."

She leaned in towards him. "Do you have anything for me on Tommy?"

Frank considered. "Nothing yet. I've been focusing my investigation on Jill." He had spent most of the day checking the area hospitals and morgues for a girl matching her description. He also had a contact check the local women-in-crisis centers. "No sign of her in any of the hospitals or morgues I've checked... I suppose that's good."

"Maybe." Nancy sighed. "I'm worried about her. Even if she were to leave Tommy, I don't know where she'd go. What if she tries to come to me for help and I'm not there?"

"I don't know. I mean, I found out that her parents live upstate. But I called them, and they said they haven't heard from her in three years."

"Maybe she is there and they're lying." Nancy suggested. "They might think that you're working with Tommy, and that they're protecting her."

Frank nodded. "I thought of that. It's possible. I told them I was a friend of yours, and that if they heard from her they should ask her just to call me... Hopefully that's non-threatening enough that she'll get the message. If she goes home, that is. Did she have any other family, Nan? Siblings? Favorite aunts?"

Nancy pursed her lips. "I don't know... I rarely talked about my life before moving to the city, and she rarely talked about hers. I do remember her saying that her parents had disowned her. I think she assumed my father had done the same to me."

"Well _that_ couldn't be farther from the truth." Frank said.

Nancy looked a little ashamed. "I know."

* * *

When Nancy finally said goodnight and closed the door, Frank pursed his lips as he heard her door locks slide into place. The lock, the deadbolt, the chain. He could hardly fault her for locking up—it was getting late, after all—but it just felt like another reminder of how closed off she was towards him now. They had used to be so close, so in tune with one another, able to tell each other anything... even the things they hadn't said were tacitly understood. Now, it seemed like the more time he spent with her, the more he missed her.

He got into his car and drove home, still deep in thought. He was at an impasse—with Nancy and with her case. When he got back to the apartment he found Joe asleep on the couch in front of ESPN. The announcers on the television were deep into post-game analysis, and a half-full pizza box sat open on the kitchen counter. Shaking his head, Frank took a slice, chewing thoughtfully as he put the rest away. Then he headed for the shower, turning the water on and stepping into the hot spray.

Was he focusing on the wrong thing by trying to find Jill instead of going after Tommy? If he was honest with himself, it was really Jill he wanted to find. Like Nancy, he was worried that the longer Jill stayed with Tommy, the better the chance he would hurt the girl. Additionally, he worried about what Nancy would do when she found Tommy. Would she disappear to confront him again? Would she actually kill him?

He got out the the shower, padding into his bedroom to dry off. His phone, lying on his bureau, buzzed to indicate that he had missed a call. Frowning, he dialed his password to listen to the voicemail.

"_Frank, it's Carson Drew. Please call me as soon as you get this. A friend of Nancy's just showed up at our house. She says her name is Jill."_


	10. Chicago

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to Shenice, supernaturalsam, Caranath, SinfulAshe, Really Cinderella, and I'mapersonandyoucan'tstopme, and to my anonymous guest, for your reviews. It really keeps me going, so please keep it up! I hope you like this chapter... it was kind of rough writing. Poor Jill.

* * *

Stunned, Frank finished listening to the voicemail before dialing Carson's number. Carson answered on the first ring.

"Hello Frank."

"Hi Mr. Drew. I just got your message. You said Jill was at your house? Is she okay? What's going on?" Frank realized that he was asking too many questions and paused to give Carson time to answer.

"Actually, I was hoping you could tell me." Carson sighed heavily. His tone was grave. "Yes, a girl named Jill came to my door about half an hour ago. However, we're not at my house at the moment, we're in the emergency room."

"What? What happened? Is she okay?"

"I don't know yet. She's still being checked out. I was worried that she might be bleeding internally." Carson answered. "She was in very bad shape when she arrived, covered in bruises and scrapes. There was blood all over her clothes, and she looked like she was in a state of shock. Hannah brought her inside and tried to get her to calm down and drink some water, and then called me out of my study. The girl seemed very confused and panicked. All we were able to get from her was that her name was Jill and she was a friend of Nancy's, although she referred to her as Rebecca once or twice. She refused to say anything else."

"Rebecca is the alias that Nancy was going by when she befriended Jill." Frank explained. At least there was one question that was easily answered, though they both knew that the more troubling ones were still a mystery.

"I assumed as much." Carson said. "What I'd like to know is how and why she came to me, and how is Nancy involved? And more importantly, who did this to her. She looks like she just went twelve rounds with a brick wall. I've seen the kind of man who would do this to a woman, and I don't want him anywhere near my daughter."

"Neither do I." Frank said. "Nancy's safe, Mr. Drew, I just saw her an hour ago. But I think I know who hurt Jill. Her boyfriend, Tom Dawley, abuses her. Nancy was trying to help her." he cleared his throat. "Incidentally, Dawley's a very dangerous man. He's a high-ranking member of the gang that killed Ned."

There was a long pause before Carson replied. "I see."

"Mr. Drew, I don't know why Jill came to you, but if Dawley's coming after her, or Nancy, you and Hannah could be in danger." Frank said.

"I understand." Carson said. "We'll be sure to take precautions. And of course, as soon as Jill is checked out we'll be reporting this to the police."

"Sir..." Frank made a snap decision. "I know it's late, but would it be all right if I came down to River Heights tonight? I'd really like to talk to Jill as soon as possible. She and I met briefly. I might have more luck getting her to talk to me."

"You and your family are always welcome here, Frank, especially after what you've done for Nancy, and for me." Carson answered. "Let me know if you need a ride from the airport."

"Thank you, sir." Frank said. He said goodbye and hung up, already shoving a change of clothes into a carry-on. "Joe! Joe, wake-" He nearly collided with Joe walking out of his bedroom.

"I'm awake!" Joe protested. "What's going on?"

"Jill's in River Heights." Frank quickly explained the story while gathering his wallet, keys, and laptop. "I've gotta go down and talk to her, find out what happened with Tommy. Maybe she knows where he is."

"Do you want me to come?"

Frank shook his head. "If you could just-"

"Already on it." Joe said, opening his own laptop. "One ticket on the first available flight to Chicago. And a rental car."

"Thanks." Frank said. He stopped at the door for a moment to make sure he had everything he needed.

"One more thing." Joe said. "Aren't you going to tell Nancy that you found Jill?"

"Not yet." Frank looked slightly guilty. "Something's not right about this, Joe. The girl we've been looking for just _shows up_ at Nancy's home? When is it ever that easy?"

"It doesn't sound like it was that easy for Jill." Joe pointed out seriously.

"I know, but-"

"You think it's a trap." Joe guessed.

"I don't know." Frank said honestly. "Maybe. But if it is, I don't want Nancy falling into it."

"Meanwhile, you're running straight into it." Joe said. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"I'd rather have you here, in case Nancy needs you." Frank told him.

"In case Nancy needs me?" Joe smirked. "Don't let her hear you say that. And just be careful, okay?"

"I will. You too."

* * *

Through a most unusual series of lucky breaks, Frank managed to be on a plane bound for Chicago twenty minutes after arriving at the airport. The flight was just under two hours, and after picking up his rental car, he made it to the Drews' house in River Heights in record time. The house looked the same as he remembered, from the neatly-trimmed bushes along the front path to the blue mustang convertible in the driveway. Just looking at the car evoked memories of sitting in the front seat hanging on for dear life as Nancy evaded an unwanted tail. Shaking away the memory, Frank rang the doorbell.

Footsteps sounded inside and paused for a moment before the lock clicked open. When the door opened it was not Carson Drew or Hannah Gruen, but Bess Marvin who was on the other side. "Frank!" she exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms for a hug.

Frank held her for a moment and then let go. "Bess! It's been a while."

"Too long." Bess admonished gently, stepping back to let him inside. "No Joe?" she asked in a disappointed tone, looking around behind him.

"Not tonight, sorry." Frank answered, coming in and closing the door behind him. "What are you doing here? It's after two am."

Bess looked behind her, lowering her voice. "While Mr. Drew and Jill were at the hospital, Hannah called me to ask me to help her move Jill's car. I guess they think someone might be following her or something, and they don't want the car to give away that she's staying here." she smiled. "We parked it behind the police station. It ought to be safe there!"

"Jill is staying here?" Frank asked, frowning.

Bess nodded. "Then when Mr. Drew brought her home he asked me to stay and help her get showered and dressed." She bit her lip. "She looked awful, Frank. She was completely covered in blood, and her face is all bruised..."

Frank nodded sympathetically. "And what did the police say about it?"

"She refuses to talk to them."

The voice came from behind them, and Frank turned to see Carson Drew coming down the staircase. "Hi, Mr. Drew."

"It's good to see you, Frank." Carson said, hugging him as well. "I have to admit, a tiny part of me was hoping that Nancy would be with you."

"Sorry, sir. But she is safe, I promise. Doing better than she has been for a while, I think." Frank said awkwardly. "She'll come back when she's ready."

"And we have you to thank for that, I'm sure." Carson said, while Bess looked on, beaming.

"She would have done as much for Joe or me." Frank said, shaking off the praise. "Bess said that Jill is staying here. How is she?"

"No internal bleeding or organ damage, thankfully." Carson said. "It would have been hard for the doctors to operate on her when she won't give them her real name for the medical records. She was badly bruised and had a broken wrist and a minor concussion. They said she could leave the hospital as long as she stayed with someone who could wake her up every few hours and check on her. Of course, we told her she could stay here."

"But if the person who hurt her were to come looking for her-"

"Hannah and I are aware of the risks." Carson said, with a small smile. "After living with Nancy all these years, we're used to them. And we're certainly not going to let them scare us away from helping that poor girl. She's someone's daughter too."

Frank nodded. His family would have done the same. "Why won't she talk to the police?"

Carson folded his arms. "I don't know. She seems very afraid, Frank."

"But if she's afraid, wouldn't she want to go to the police? They'd be able to protect her better than anyone else."

"It seems more like it's the police she's afraid of."

"What?" Frank was puzzled. It wasn't the police who had beat her up, it was Tommy. So why would she want to protect him?

"We don't know." Carson sighed. "We thought Jill might be more comfortable with a girl her own age, but she won't talk to Bess either. Hannah's upstairs with her now, if you want to see her."

"I do." Frank followed Carson up the steps, realizing that he was being led to Nancy's old bedroom. It felt strange to be here, amongst her family and friends and belongings, without Nancy.

Jill was lying stiffly against a pile of pillows, her thin form barely making an indent on the bed. Her face seemed to be one mottled bruise, purple with shades of brown and yellow, and one of her eyes was swollen nearly shut. Her lips were red and puffy, her open mouth revealing two chipped upper teeth. A cut above one of her eyebrows had been covered with a butterfly closure. One forearm was encased in a cast.

Frank grimaced. If he hadn't already wanted to make Tom Dawley pay through the nose for what he'd done to Nancy and Ned, the sight of Jill's broken face would have done it. "Hello, Jill." he said softly, not wanting to scare her. "Do you remember me?"

"I..." Jill sat up a little more, wincing as she did so. She was wearing a large, old t-shirt of Nancy's that Frank recognized from their vacation trip to Padre Island—it was sunny yellow and read _Who's your Padre?_ "Maybe." she said. She was studying him intently.

"My name is Frank Hardy. We met briefly in Nancy's hotel room, in New York." Frank reminded her.

"You were with... another man. Blond hair." Jill remembered.

"Yes, my brother Joe." Frank confirmed.

Hannah stood up as he eased his way farther into the room and gave him a quick hug and kiss of greeting. "Frank is a good friend of Nancy's." she explained to Jill. "He's not going to hurt you. And I'll be right back in a few minutes, okay?" When the girl gave the affirmative, she slipped out, leaving Frank alone in the room with Jill.

Frank sat down in the chair Hannah had vacated. "Can you tell me what happened, Jill?"

She didn't seem to be eager to talk about what had happened to her. Instead, she said, "Have you seen Nancy? Is she still in New York? Is she all right? The last time I saw her she was... Tommy had..." Her voice quavered slightly.

Frank guessed that she was already saying more to him than she had to Carson or Hannah—if she'd mentioned to them that Nancy had been shot they would have been frantic. "She's all right." he assured her. "It was just a minor wound. She's been worried about you, though."

"I wanted to see her, that's why I came here." Jill said softly. "And I didn't know where else to go."

"You came here because you were looking for her?" Frank probed gently. Though the questions about Nancy's whereabouts were natural, they also made him very wary. If Jill didn't want to report Tommy to the police, who knew what else she was doing for him... It was hard to imagine that a girl who had taken this kind of beating would want to collect information for her abuser, but Frank knew that domestic violence situations could be very complicated. Could Jill still be loyal enough to Tommy to spy for him?

"I wanted to see her." Jill repeated in a watery voice. "She's the only real friend I have, and... and she was right about everything! About Tommy, and about how I should have left him months ago..."

A few tears slipped out of her blackened eyes, and Frank quickly handed her a tissue from the box on the desk. He didn't want to believe that Jill would try to hurt Nancy; she truly seemed like a nice girl in a bad situation, who was in dire need of a friend. "Well, she's safe, and you're safe now too, okay, Jill?" he said soothingly. "Tommy's not going to be able to hurt you anymore."

At this, Jill started sobbing even harder.

"Please, tell me what happened." Frank pleaded. "I don't understand. Isn't Tommy the one who did this to you?"

Jill nodded, using her good hand to wipe at her streaming eyes. "He-he did it because he caught me trying to find Rebecca—I mean, Nancy. I-I just wanted to make sure she was okay, after he sh-shot her. After that, we left New York City... he took me to Chi-Chicago, he said he had business to take care of. He hadn't... I don't think he'd realized, before N-Nancy confronted him, that she was responsible for getting so many of his guys arrested, and once he figured it out, he was r-really angry. She... she told me once that she used to live near Chicago, and I was worried that Tommy came here to try to find her again, and hurt her. This morning, when he was asleep, I went into his briefcase to see what he had on Nancy. I found her home address in one of his files."

It took a long time for Jill to get her sentences out; talking obviously caused her pain. But Frank sat forward, waiting patiently for her to continue.

"Then he woke up." She shivered. "He-he started yelling at me, and then he saw what I was doing, and he hit me."

Frank clamped his teeth together, but kept his voice calm and quiet. "He did more than hit you, Jill."

"Well, first he just hit me." Jill said. "But then he figured out about Reb—Nancy, he remembered that I was friends with her. He figured out that I told her where to find him, and he said I was t-trying to get him k-k-killed. That's when he..." She blinked back a few more tears and gestured to the cast on her wrist. "Well... you know."

Frank nodded, allowing her to gloss over the more painful parts of the story. "Somehow you escaped, and you remembered Nancy's address, so you drove here?"

Jill nodded. "It was relatively close by, and I thought, maybe, after what happened in New York, Nancy might have come back home. And even if she hadn't, I thought her family might help me. She-she didn't seem like someone who'd come from a bad home."

"No, she doesn't." Frank said.

"Mr. Drew and Hannah were very nice to me." Jill said musingly. "If I lived here, I don't think I'd ever want to leave."

"They're good people." Frank agreed. He leaned forward on his elbows. "And if Tommy is trying to get to you or Nancy, they could be in danger. Why won't you talk to the police, Jill?"

"No." Jill's eyes dropped to her lap, suddenly filled with tears once more. "I can't."

"Why not?" Frank pressed. "If you just tell them what happened, they can protect you. Aren't you afraid Tommy will come after you?"

"No." Jill said dully. "He won't... Because I killed him."


	11. Old Flames

A/N: Thank you so much to Caranath, cuteypuffgurl, Alvarezs46, Shenice, Really Cinderella, and LazyPanther for your support on that last chapter! This one is super short, I know, and I'm sorry. It just seemed like a natural stopping place. Review and I promise to get the next one up ASAP!

* * *

Frank didn't know what to say. If Tom Dawley was really dead, that changed everything.

"I killed him." Jill said again, in a whisper. Tears leaked from her eyes as she finally looked up at him. "I'll get sent to jail."

"No. No." Frank reassured her. "If you hadn't done something, _he_ might have killed _you_. You were just defending yourself. They won't put you in jail for that. But you have to tell the police what happened. You can't run away from this, or they _will _catch you and arrest you."

"I didn't mean to!" Jill said. She began sobbing again. "But I-I thought he wasn't going to _stop,_ this time. I was on the floor, and he was coming towards me, and I just-I just crawled over to my bag and got the-the wrench, the one that Rebecca gave me. He didn't see what I was holding."

Frank stayed quiet, sensing that she had to get the story out without interruption.

Jill's eyes were far away as she continued. "He grabbed my hair and lifted me up, and he was screaming at me, and I was so scared, I just got this big rush of... of anger, or something. And I just... I hit him with it." She shuddered. "He didn't even yell. He just, kind of, fell down. And we were just lying there, and there was blood, a big puddle of it, under his head. I didn't know what to do." Her voice cracked on the last word and she buried her face in the tissue.

"Did you check?" Frank hated to ask it, but he needed to know. "Are you sure he was dead?"

"Yes." Jill sobbed between hiccups. "No. I don't know. I just ran. There was... there was a _lot _of blood."

Frank nodded. Carson had said that she'd arrived covered in blood. He'd assumed that all of it was hers, but maybe not. Jill was still crying hard, and Frank gingerly placed a comforting hand on top of her cast, wishing there was something he could do to console her. If she was telling the truth—and his intuition told him that she was—Jill had been through an unbelievably difficult day. It was amazing that she had had the strength to not only survive her beating at the hands of the man she loved, but to fight back, and then to drive herself to a place she'd never been and ask for help from strangers. She'd then spent several hours in the emergency room and explained her story to him... it was no wonder she was overwrought.

"Don't worry, everything's going to be okay." he told her. "You should get some rest for a few hours. You must be exhausted. We can go to the police in the morning and tell them everything. They won't arrest you, I promise. You're gonna be okay."

Jill took another tissue and wiped away her tears, attempting to calm down. "Okay." she whispered. But when Frank stood up to leave she reached out and seized his hand. "Stay?" she asked, in a small, pleading voice. "Would you please stay? For a little?"

Frank sank back down into the chair, careful to keep his grip on her bruised fingers light. "Alright."

* * *

_Sometimes you can avoid awkward meetings,_ Joe mentally reflected, _and sometimes, you get blindsided by them. _

Case in point, as he had turned into a parking space in front of Nancy's apartment complex, another car had turned into the adjacent space simultaneously. A very familiar car, one that had been parked outside his house all the time up until five or six months ago, when its owner had broken up with his brother.

Both drivers got out of their cars. Eye contact was unavoidable. "Hey Callie."

Callie Shaw brushed her short blonde hair out of her eyes. "Joe! Hi." There was a brief pause. "What are you doing here?"

"Just visiting a friend." Joe said.

"Oh. Right. Nancy Drew." Callie said, a hint of strain in her voice. "How is she?"

"Uh..." Joe didn't know how much Callie knew about Nancy's situation, but it was hardly his place to talk about it. "She's doing well, I think. She likes it here. It was great of your father to help her out." Callie smiled tightly and he changed the subject quickly. "What brings you here?"

She held up a large brown envelope. "Dad asked me to drop off some papers to one of the new upstairs tenants."

"Cool." Joe nodded, as they began walking toward the apartment together. "So... how have you been?" Knowing what he did about how difficult Frank and Callie's breakup had been, he could have kicked himself for asking, but it was such a natural form of small talk that it slipped out without thinking.

"Oh, fine." Callie said. "I'm good. Busy. I've been working a lot of extra hours at the office." Callie worked as a paralegal; she was preparing to eventually attend law school. "How are you?"

Joe shrugged, holding open the door so she could go in first. "Can't complain. You know, cheating wives, missing persons, the usual."

Another long pause. "...And Frank?"

"Good. He's good. He's, uh, actually on a case right now. Out of state."

"Oh." Callie actually seemed a little more comfortable knowing that Frank wasn't around. "Well, I don't know why I'm surprised." she said with a little laugh. "You guys always did spend more time running all over the country than-" she stopped suddenly. "What was that?"

Joe had heard it too. "Someone screaming." he said tersely. "And it sounds like it's coming from Nancy's place!"


	12. A Bad Dream and a Nightmare

A/N: As always, thank you to my lovely reviewers (Really Cinderella, SinfulAshe, anette95, Aruna Hart, Shenice, Ealasaid Una, and my anonymous guests). You guys are wonderful. Keep it up.

* * *

Nancy's door was at the end of the hall and Joe bolted for it, Callie hot on his heels. He rattled the doorknob; it was locked. Was someone in there with her? Had Tommy managed to find her somehow? Or was it someone else?

"Nancy!" he hammered on the door with his fist. "Are you okay? What's going on in there?"

The only answer was another scream. Momentarily, Joe considered his options. Although Nancy was on the first floor of the building, the steep slope it sat on meant that her bedroom and kitchen windows were several feet too high off the ground to be easy entry points. It would have to be the door. Joe dropped to his knees in front of the doorknob, digging his lockpicks out of a compartment in the sole of his shoe.

"Joe-"

In his alarm over Nancy he'd nearly forgotten she was there. "Hang on, Callie." he said dismissively, inserting the thinnest pick into the lock first.

"But-"

"Callie!" Joe gritted out. Picking locks required some measure of concentration. Callie stopped talking and he heard her fiddling around in her purse. Fine. He inserted the second pick, wiggling it around, hoping to feel it catch...

Suddenly there was a huge ring of keys dangling in front of his face—the master keyring for the building. He looked up at Callie.

She selected two keys from the ring and held them up to him. "Doorknob. Deadbolt."

"Oh." Sheepishly, Joe pocketed the picks and took the keys. Every once in a while, he caught glimpses of the reasons Callie never liked him much. He undid the locks and threw the door open—about two inches. "Dammit! The chain!" He eyed Callie's purse doubtfully. "I, uh... I don't suppose you have a hacksaw or anything in there...?"

"Sorry. This one's all you." Callie said.

Nancy's screams had stopped, but they were replaced by a pained whimpering, which was just as unsettling. Joe's shouting and banging had to have tipped off anyone inside the apartment to his presence, but if there was someone in there with Nancy, they weren't making any noise at all.

Joe pounded on the door in frustration. How was he supposed to get in there?

"Oh! Wait!" Callie cried suddenly. "Outside, there was a shovel-!"

Joe remembered seeing a garden spade leaning against the wall outside, probably left accidentally by some landscapers. "Yes, perfect!" He sprinted back to get it and inserted it between the door and door frame, using the metal head to slice at the chain. When it didn't give, he wedged it against the door frame like a lever and pushed with all his strength. The end of the chain came out of the wall and the door flew open with a bang. Joe charged into the apartment, wielding the shovel in front of him.

Nancy was lying on the couch, fast asleep, a blanket twisted around her legs. She didn't appear to be hurt or restrained in any way. Cautiously, Joe peeked into the bedroom and bathroom. They were empty.

Nancy stirred, whimpering again.

"Joe... I think she's just having a nightmare." Callie said quietly.

"A _nightmare_." Joe repeated with a sigh, setting down the shovel. "I almost had a heart attack."

"Maybe you should wake her up." Callie suggested.

"I don't see how she could have slept through all the noise we made."

"Obviously, she _did_." Callie returned.

Ignoring her snappish tone, Joe knelt down beside the couch and took Nancy's shoulders in his hands, shaking her lightly. "Nancy? Wake up, Nance. You're just dreaming."

Nancy's breathing began to quicken and she struggled in his arms. "No!" she murmured. "Frank!"

_Yikes._ Casting a nervous glance at Callie's stone-faced expression, Joe shook Nancy a little faster. "Nancy. It's alright, you're safe. Wake up!"

When Nancy finally opened her eyes, she gave another tiny scream, pushing him back and away from her. She was breathing heavily.

"Whoa!" Joe held up his hands in a sign of surrender. "It's just me."

"If I woke up and found _you_ that close to my face, I'd scream too." Callie said wryly. "Poor girl." Joe half-turned around to glare at her.

"Joe?" Nancy seemed confused, looking around at her surroundings as if she couldn't place them at first. "What...?"

"You were having a nightmare." Joe told her. "We heard you screaming and thought you might be in trouble. Sorry about the door chain, by the way."

"But, what about Frank-" Nancy protested.

"He's not here. But he's fine." Joe promised. "Whatever you thought happened to him, it didn't. You were just dreaming."

Nancy nodded, leaning back against the arm of the couch. She was blushing as she smoothed her rumpled hair away from her face. "I'm sorry. It just seemed so real, I-" she cut herself off abruptly as her gaze landed on Callie.

Callie manufactured a smile. "Hi. Sorry to be intruding on you like this. You don't know me. I'm-"

"Callie Shaw." Nancy finished, looking even more embarrassed. "I've seen pictures of you. And of course the boys have told me about you." she cleared her throat. "I'm Nancy."

"I know." Callie said. "I've... heard about you too. It's nice to finally meet you."

"You too." Nancy said with a small smile.

Callie held up the envelope she was still holding. "Well, I've really got to deliver these. If you're going to be staying in Bayport, I'm sure we'll be seeing each other around."

Nancy nodded. "I'm not sure how long I'll be here, but that would be nice." she said. "I hope we do."

Callie said goodbye and left, and Joe closed the door behind her. He wiped an imaginary bead of sweat from his forehead. "Phew... The last time I was in a situation that tense it involved a grenade."

"Shut up, Joe." Nancy had gotten up from the couch and was folding the blanket neatly. "She seems nice... She's very pretty."

"Uh..." Joe looked at her skeptically. "Sure, I guess..."

Nancy had draped the blanket over the back of the couch and was fastidiously smoothing it, although it looked fine. "So what are you doing here?"

Joe shrugged. "Just checking in. Thought I'd see if you needed any spiders killed or jars opened."

Nancy shot him an exasperated look. "Would you stop checking up on me? I can kill my own spiders. You don't need to do me any more favors."

"I wasn't doing it as a favor." Joe argued. "I was doing it as a _friend_. Remember, that thing we used to be?"

Nancy sighed. "We're still friends, Joe. But you're _hovering_. I'm a grown woman, I don't need anyone looking after me."

"One, a quick visit once a day is not 'hovering'." Joe corrected. "And two, you don't need anyone looking after you? Are you kidding me? Five minutes ago you were screaming loud enough that the whole building could hear you."

Nancy's face hardened. "Can we just forget about that?"

"No, we can't." Joe said. "How often do you have these nightmares?"

Nancy sank back down on the couch. "Not that often. I had them a lot after Ned, but, eventually they stopped."

Joe sat down next to her. "And now they're starting again?"

She was studying her hands, not looking at him. "Since I moved to Bayport, yeah." she sighed. "I couldn't really sleep last night. Then this morning I guess I drifted off on the couch."

"What was the dream about?" Joe asked softly.

"Almost always the same thing. What happened to Ned." Nancy said vaguely.

Joe nodded sympathetically. "Wait... but you said this one was about Frank."

It took Nancy a long time to reply. "It was. I've never had one about Frank before. Maybe that's why it shook me up so much." She checked her watch. "I don't have to work until eleven. Maybe I could... drop by your office to check in with him." She gave Joe a tiny smile. "You know, see if he needs any spiders killed or jars opened."

Joe smiled. It was good to see her making jokes again. However, her apparently nonchalant desire to see Frank _right now_ indicated that the nightmare had been even more unsettling than she was letting on. "I'm sure he'd love that, Nance, but he's not at the office today."

She looked at him sharply. "Why not?"

_Oops. Time to tread carefully_, Joe thought. "He's working a case."

"Alone?" And then, "I thought he was working on my case."

"He was. Is. Dad just needed him to look into something else today." Joe lied.

"Did he find Tommy?" Nancy breathed.

"No he didn't. It's unrelated." Joe insisted. "Can't really talk about it. Client confidentiality."

"Are you sure he's okay?" Nancy asked, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "When's the last time you heard from him?"

For some irrational reason, Nancy's anxiety for Frank's safety was starting to make Joe uneasy as well. "He called me right before I came here. He's fine." That part was true; Frank had called him earlier, filling him in on the situation with Jill... and with Tommy. But Frank had been insistent that they not tell Nancy what had happened until they were sure it was all over. "He even said he would probably be spending all day in the police station. Nothing's going to happen to him there."

Nancy looked unconvinced.

Joe leaned over and wrapped her in a half-hug, surprised when she leaned into him instead of pulling away. "He's planning to come home tomorrow. You can see him then."

Nancy nodded. "Okay. You're right, I'm being stupid." She leaned against him for just a moment longer.

"Hey, I didn't say that." Joe said as he released her. "Listen, I'm having dinner with my folks tonight, and they told me to invite you. What do you think?"

Nancy shook her head. "Joe, I don't think-"

"Now, I don't want to put any pressure on you," Joe interrupted, "But when I talked to my mom, she was in the middle of baking a chocolate cake." He raised his eyebrows at her hopefully.

"Fine." Nancy relented, but she was hiding a smile. "I'll come. But only because I hate to see a grown man beg."

"Excellent." Joe said, pleased at himself for getting her to cave. "Pick you up at seven."

* * *

Frank stood in front of the sink in the bathroom of the River Heights police station and splashed his face with water. He was completely exhausted; he'd slept for only a few hours last night and they'd all been in a chair. Once he and Jill were up, showered, and dressed, they'd had a quick breakfast and come to the station to report Jill's story.

Carson Drew had come along, having agreed to be her lawyer. In his opinion, it was an open-and-shut case. Tom Dawley was a violent man with previous arrests and known mob ties, and no one who looked at Jill could doubt that her attacker had had it coming. Though Carson was perfectly able to handle Jill and the police angle by himself, Frank had stuck around, solely because his presence seemed to make Jill feel better.

As soon as they reported the murder, Chief McGinnis had immediately contacted the Chicago Police Department to coordinate the ensuing investigation, only to find out that no one had yet reported Tommy's murder. Chicago policemen were immediately dispatched to the crime scene, while Jill filled McGinnis in on the circumstances surrounding the murder.

It was stomach-turning to hear—in excruciating detail, this time—Jill's account of what Tommy had done to her, but she'd asked Frank to stay, gripping his hand for moral support, and so he had. Just thinking about it had Frank seeing red, so when the chief left to take a phone call, he'd excused himself to the bathroom to cool down.

He and Chief McGinnis returned at the same time. Frank could tell, just by looking at the older man's face, that the phone call had not been good news.

McGinnis handed Jill a slip of paper with an address written on it. "This is the address you said you were staying at with Dawley. Are you absolutely certain that it's correct?"

Jill's eyes scanned the paper. "Yes sir. I'm sure."

"And this is where you killed him? Inside this apartment?" McGinnis pressed.

"Yes." she said quietly.

Carson rose from his seat. "What's this about, Chief?"

McGinnis took back the piece of paper. "This apartment is full of Chicago's finest right now." he said seriously. "And they report that there is no body."


	13. Stricken

A/N: As always, thank you to all my reviewers for the last chapter. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your taking a few seconds to give me some feedback. Keep it up, and enjoy the chapter!

* * *

"No body?" Jill repeated. Her voice was calm, but she was visibly trembling. "Then he wasn't dead."

"Not necessarily." Carson said. "It's possible someone came by and moved the body. His friends, perhaps."

"Or he was able to move somewhere else before he died." Frank added, but it was a halfhearted suggestion. Experience had taught him that assuming the worst was usually more useful than assuming the best.

"So where do we go from here?" Jill asked softly.

"There's an APB out on Dawley. We've already got officers checking the hospitals and clinics for men of his description. However," Chief McGinnis paused, sitting down across from her, "As long as Dawley is out there, there remains the possibility that he or his associates will try to come after you. You're likely to be viewed as a loose end as far as they're concerned. I'd like to see you in police protection, at least until we find Dawley."

"Would I be... in jail?" Jill asked cautiously.

"Of course not." McGinnis replied. "We would take you to a safe house where you would have a 24/7 police guard. No one besides myself and your protection detail would know exactly where you were being taken."

Jill looked at Frank and then at Carson, a lost expression on her face. "What do you think?" she asked them.

Carson sighed. "Your safety is the most important thing, Jill, but it's your decision. I believe you would be safer in protective custody, but, of course, you are welcome in my home should you refuse it."

"If Dawley's still alive, he's probably in pretty bad shape." McGinnis added. "It's likely we'll be able to bring him in very soon, at which point you would be released."

"Released?" Jill repeated. Clearly, the idea of being in police custody was unsettling to her.

Frank was torn. He genuinely liked Jill, and he knew that she had been through hell, and deserved the security that the safehouse offered. However, there was the niggling thought in his mind that sticking with Jill would be their best bet at finding Tommy... or letting Tommy find them. But the rational part of his brain knew that putting the girl in any further danger was unconscionable. "You should go." he told Jill gently. "You nearly killed Tommy yesterday, and you're the reason the police are after him. He has every reason to want to come after you, and you have to stay safe."

Jill's dark eyes met hers and she nodded. "Okay."

After all she'd suffered at her ex-boyfriend's hands, it was amazing to Frank that she was so trusting, that his opinion meant that much to her. "Okay." he repeated.

Chief McGinnis cleared his throat. "Are you ready to leave now? I can send an officer back to Carson's house for any clothing or personal effects you need packed. Or, if you prefer, we can supply you with anything you might need once you're at the safehouse."

Jill shook her head. "I don't really have- Oh, wait." she smiled sheepishly. "I'm already packed. My suitcase is in the back of my car, outside in the parking lot."

"Excellent." McGinnis stood up. "Well I just need to make a few quick phone calls and then we'll be off."

As the chief left the room, Jill turned to Carson. "Mr. Drew, I really can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me. Taking me to the hospital, letting me stay in your home, agreeing to represent me... I know you didn't have to do it, and I do appreciate it." She reached out her cast-free hand and Carson shook it warmly.

"Thank you," he replied, "for being a friend to my daughter."

Jill grimaced. "Nancy helped me more than I was ever able to help her, I'm afraid."

Carson shook his head but made no comment.

Then Jill turned to Frank. "And thank you, for being so kind and understanding about everything-"

"No thanks needed." Frank said, reddening slightly under her praise. "And don't talk like we're never going to see each other again; the police will catch Tommy before you know it."

Again, trusting him, Jill nodded.

"Let's go get your stuff." Frank suggested.

"Okay." Jill automatically reached into her pocket before she realized it was empty. "Oh! I think Bess took my-"

"Actually, I happen to have it." Carson said with a smile, fishing a set of keys out of his own pocket and tossing them to Frank. "Bess said she parked Jill's car behind the station, in the far corner of the lower lot."

Jill insisted on accompanying Frank down to the car to get her effects, so they walked down the steps together and out the back door to the lower lot. Carson needn't have worried that they wouldn't be able to find her car; it was one of only two in the lot, parked in the shade of a large maple tree.

"Is it in the trunk?" Frank asked, idly twirling the keys around his finger.

Jill furrowed her brow for a minute. "Uh, the backseat, I think."

Frank unlocked the front door first. When he reached into the back to flip up the lock on the back door, he found himself staring down the barrel of a revolver.

His heart nearly stopped at the sight of the man who could only be Tom Dawley crouched behind the driver's seat. He was dark, with tan skin and eyes that boiled with fury like black pits of tar. One side of his face was swollen and purple, and a long, open wound split his face from scalp to cheekbone.

"Get in." he growled.

Jill's eyes were wide with terror. She opened her mouth, and the barest of whimpers escaped her. Frank, too, was having a hard time believing what he was seeing. Had Dawley really shown up to threaten them in the police station parking lot?

The barrel of the gun never pointed away from Frank as Dawley's finger twitched visibly on the trigger. "_Jillian._"

His voice implied a warning that Jill was obviously used to hearing—and obeying. Without a word, she slid into the passenger's seat.

"Now you." Dawley said to Frank.

Frank moved forward slowly, his eyes darting back to the station door. It was much too far to make a run for it, and nobody else was in sight. How long would it be before someone came out looking for him and Jill?

"Get in!" Dawley barked. "Turn the car on and drive!"

With the revolver was still trained on him, there was nothing Frank could do but slide into the driver's seat. His eyes met Dawley's in the rear view mirror. "Where are we going?"

Dawley lunged forward and smacked him in the back of the head with the butt of the gun. Jill let out a tiny shriek and Frank saw stars as his head snapped forward, pain blooming behind his right ear. "You just worry about driving." Dawley snarled.

Frank blinked, trying to restore his pain-fogged vision. He felt a trickle of blood run down his neck and into his shirt collar as he started the car.

"Left out of the parking lot." Dawley instructed, and Frank followed his command, watching the mirrors with dismay as the police station slowly disappeared from view.

* * *

Nancy dawdled in the driveway, smoothing down her skirt and fiddling with the hem of her blouse. She hadn't realized how difficult it would be to go into Fenton and Laura Hardy's house again, didn't really even_ understand_ it. She'd known the Hardy family since before she could remember, she'd been in their house a hundred times, eaten there, slept there, laughed and cried there...

It felt entirely too much like home.

"I can't believe you got all dressed up for my parents, Nan. They've known you too long for you to make a good first impression _now_." Joe said, standing on the front step, staring at her impatiently.

Nancy rolled her eyes. "I'm not 'all dressed up,' Joe. It's just a skirt."

"Yeah. It's a _skirt._" Joe repeated.

"It's _denim._" Nancy protested, although the truth was that, in her nervousness, she had taken extra care with her outfit. Fenton and Laura had always treated her like a daughter, and she was sure they would be disappointed in her for running away. She wondered how much of the story Frank and Joe had told them.

"Whatever." Joe said. "Come on." He took her by the elbow and practically towed her into the house. "Mom? Dad? We're here!" he called out.

Laura appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on her apron and greeting Joe with a peck on the cheek before focusing her attention on Nancy. Nancy barely had time to feel awkward before Laura had enfolded her in a warm hug. "Nancy, sweetie, it's so good to see you." she said, her voice tight with emotion.

Without warning, tears began to prickle Nancy's eyes. "Hi, Mrs. Hardy." she managed around the lump in her throat.

Laura released her suddenly, as if she'd just remembered something. "Oh! Your arm! Did I hurt you?"

Nancy shook her head. Her arm wound was still sore and tender, particularly when she moved it, but the worst of the pain seemed to have gone. "No, not at all."

Laura smiled and rested her hand on Nancy's good arm, rubbing her thumb up and down in an affectionate gesture for a moment. Then she clapped her hands together. "Come in, come in. Dinner's almost ready."

Following Joe and Laura into the kitchen, Nancy was next greeted by Fenton Hardy and his sister, Gertrude. Fenton, tall and handsome, looked like an older version of Frank. He said nothing, but pulled Nancy into a fatherly hug.

"So," Gertrude said, as Fenton released her. "You came."

Nancy blushed slightly at the critical tone in her voice, though she was somewhat used to Gertrude's disapproval. Aunt Gertrude, though a fair and caring woman, was well-known for her for her stern personality and habit of speaking her mind. Nancy smiled as memories rose unbidden of childhood attempts by her and the boys (mostly Joe) to bend and circumvent the strict lady's rules. "I came." she confirmed, hugging the older woman. "Hello, Aunt Gertrude."

"Well, I'm glad you did." Gertrude said. "It's been entirely too long, Nancy."

"Frank and Joe told us that you've moved into the Middleton apartments while you're working on your case." Fenton said. "How is that going?"

Nancy began to answer, but Laura cut her off quickly. "No shop talk tonight, please, Fenton. We're having a nice dinner and no cases are to be discussed."

"I was only asking about her apartment, dear." Fenton said innocently.

Nancy bit her lip in amusement as Laura shot her husband a look of exasperation. Frank and Joe were sometimes embarrassed by their parents' flirting and banter, but Nancy had always thought it was sweet. "The apartment is very nice, Mr. Hardy. It was great of Frank to find it for me."

"What about me?" Joe spoke up in protest.

"And Joe." Nancy added obediently.

"You can thank me by helping me set the table."

"Joseph!" Gertrude reprimanded, but Nancy just shook her head, accepting a handful of silverware from Joe. Having something to do with her hands dulled the nervousness somewhat, although she doubted that was Joe's motive for "letting" her help.

Conversation flowed more smoothly once they all sat down around the dining room table to eat. Fenton and Joe talked sports, and Gertrude shared an entertaining story about her latest book club meeting. Nancy talked about her new job and apartment, and no mention was made of her case, the circumstances in which Joe and Frank had found her, or when she would be returning home. She also made sure to compliment Laura and Gertrude on their cooking; just the taste of the home-cooked meal made Nancy a little bit homesick. If there was anyone whose cooking could rival Hannah Gruen's, Laura and Gertrude Hardy would definitely be in the running.

They were in the middle of dessert when the phone began to ring. Laura was clearly loathe to interrupt the meal for a phone call, but when it continued to ring she sighed. "You'd better get that."

Fenton nodded, standing up and placing his napkin on the table before heading back into the kitchen. Nancy used the break in conversation as an opportunity to finish her slice of chocolate cake and excuse herself to the restroom.

* * *

Joe leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out under the table. "That cake was amazing."

"I'm glad you think so." Laura smiled at her younger son. "I made it for you."

"You spoil me."

"I know it." Laura teased.

Standing up, Joe gathered the empty dessert plates and headed into the kitchen. He set them down on the counter next to the sink just as Fenton was hanging up the phone.

It only took one look at his father's face for Joe to know that something was wrong. "Who was it?"

"Carson Drew." Fenton answered. He scrubbed a hand across his face, worry evident in his eyes.

Joe felt a weight of dread settle in his chest. "What happened? Is everything okay?"

"Frank and Jill disappeared from the River Heights police station a few hours ago." Fenton said wearily. "They think Tom Dawley has them."

"What? No." Joe said. "I thought Dawley was-"

"They never found a body." Fenton said. "The chief was planning to send Jill into protective custody. She and Frank went to get her luggage out of her car and they never came back. They've got an APB out on Dawley and they're searching for the car, but they haven't come up with anything."

Joe's hands curled into fists, but he suppressed the urge to hit something. "Dammit! Can't they trace his cell phone or something?"

"They tried. It's either been turned off or destroyed." Fenton answered, running a hand through his hair in a helpless gesture that was very reminiscent of his older son.

"Dammit." Joe said again. "I can't believe Dawley has Frank! This is my fault for letting him go alone!" He began pacing in frustration. "There's gotta be something we can do. I'll go to River Heights tonight. I've gotta help look."

"Joe-" Fenton protested, but Joe had already made up his mind. Marching over to the kitchen door, he flung it open... only to be staring into the stricken eyes of Nancy Drew.


	14. Chicago Style

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to LazyP, Gwen, Nan53, the vulture, anette95, Really Cinderella, guest, and Coolio663774 for your reviews. It's as if you know how much I look forward to getting them ;)

Warning: while not insanely graphic, this chapter might be a little intense. As always, please let me know what you think!

* * *

Nancy didn't even flinch when the kitchen door burst open and Joe appeared inches from her face. "Tommy has Frank?" she said, her voice coming out as a whisper. She must have looked as dazed as she felt, because Joe actually grabbed her shoulders to steady her.

"Nancy-" he began.

"Is it true?" she asked, although there was no way that she could have misunderstood. When he didn't answer right away she pulled back, roughly shaking his hands off of her. "_Is it?_"

"We think so." Joe said miserably. "Jill showed up at your father's house and Frank went to go talk to her. Now they're both gone."

Her heart gave a painful throb, but she ignored it in the face of her rising anger. "You lied to me."

"What?"

"You lied to me!" she accused. "This afternoon! You said he wasn't on my case! You said he hadn't found Tommy!"

"At that point, he hadn't!" Joe defended.

"You said he was safe!"

"I thought he was!" Joe snapped. "Do you honestly think I would have let him go alone if I hadn't?"

The sounds of their argument drew Fenton, Laura, and Gertrude into the hall. "What's going on here?" Gertrude demanded.

Fenton put a comforting hand on Laura's shoulder. "Frank's missing. It looks like he may have been taken by a man named Tom Dawley-"

"The man who killed Ned." Nancy finished, interrupting Fenton. Normally she would have broken the news a little more gently, but she was already struggling too much with it herself. She was barely aware as Joe and Fenton explained the particulars to a thin-lipped Laura and Gertrude.

How had this happened? She hadn't even realized that Frank had gone to River Heights. No one had told her when they'd found Jill. She should have been there for her. Should have been there for Frank.

_Frank..._ Her dream from this morning suddenly seemed sickeningly prophetic. She had gotten him involved in this, and now he was in the hands of a murderer. She would never forgive herself if...

"I have to go home."

All discussion among the Hardys stopped, and they all turned to look at her.

Fenton frowned. "Nancy, as happy as I am to hear you say that, I don't think that's the best idea just now."

"Yeah, Nan." Joe's words had a clipped quality to them, but he was clearly trying to be gentle. "There's a reason we didn't tell you what was going on earlier, but I promise that from now on, I'll keep you in the loop about everything that happens."

"You're not going without me, Joe Hardy." Nancy said darkly. "I know you all think I'm unstable. But this is what I've been doing for the past three months. No one knows more about Tom Dawley than I do. You need me."

"Nancy-"

"Don't argue with me! We're wasting time!" Normally, Nancy would never interrupt Laura Hardy, but time was short and she had a desperate appeal to make. "I can't lose Frank too." she looked straight into Laura's worry-lined face. "Please understand that. I have to do whatever I can."

"We do understand, Nancy." Fenton said calmly. "But you need to understand that the police are doing everything they can, and your charging in there with some sort of rash rescue plan could only put Frank in more danger. And that goes for you too, Joe."

"I know, Dad. Fine." Joe said. "I promise not to do anything stupid. We'll let the cops figure it out. But if the cops think Frank's still in Chicago, I'm going there. I want to be there when they find him."

"And you can take me with you, or I can find a way to get there on my own." Nancy added. "Your choice."

All four Hardys were quiet for a moment.

"I don't like this." Aunt Gertrude said, but it was clear to Nancy that she had won, or at least worn them to a stalemate.

Joe kissed her on the temple. "You never do. We'll be careful, Aunt Gertrude."

"Just don't do anything rash." Fenton sighed. "And keep me updated. I want to hear from you the minute you get to River Heights."

"And watch each others' backs." Laura ordered seriously, hugging first Nancy and then Joe.

"My apartment first." Nancy directed as she and Joe walked back to the car. "I need to get my notes. I've got info on Tommy that the police don't have." Her voice was hard and businesslike, now that she'd recovered from the shock.

To his credit, Joe didn't pretend that they weren't going to be investigating, but followed her directions. He waited outside while she ran inside to get her laptop, and when she came out he was already getting off the phone with the airline. "Plane leaves in forty five minutes. Hope you like coach."

She knew it was only his way of dealing with tension, but Joe's flippant remark rubbed her the wrong way... Maybe it was that she still hadn't forgiven him for lying to her. How could he and Frank have hijacked _her _case—the most important case of her life—and then kept her in the dark about it?

For the next hour, all of Joe's attempts at conversation were met with stony silence.

* * *

"I'm back."

Frank cracked his eyelids ever-so-slightly at the sound of Tommy's voice. He'd been gone for over an hour, and the pain in Frank's head had lessened to a much more manageable level, but there was no sense in letting Dawley, or his minions, know that he wasn't as weak as he seemed.

It hadn't taken long once they'd left the police station for Dawley to realize that the cops were setting up a perimeter. His best method of escape would have been to ditch Jill's car and find another, but doing so with two unpredictable hostages left too much room for error, so Tommy had opted instead to take them underground—literally. He'd directed Frank to a narrow alleyway in a rather seedy close by neighborhood, and then forced Frank and Jill out of the car at gunpoint and into some sort of basement. He'd left them then, presumably to dispose of the incriminating car; unfortunately, he'd left them in the hands of three menacing-looking—and armed—goons.

His head still pounding from Tommy's blow, Frank had tried to survey his surroundings as he rested against one of the cold stone walls. The room was dark, illuminated by a couple of hanging lightbulbs, and dingy. Layers of dirt and dust coated the cold cement floor. On one side of the room was a splintery wooden platform, only a few inches high, that housed an old drum set and a keyboard, both of which were only partially covered by yellowing dropcloths. There were bars over the single tiny, grimy window.

To Frank's right was a heavy-looking wooden door that was barred by a piece of pipe. To his left, the stairs leading back up to the alleyway, the stairs Tom Dawley was descending at this very moment.

Dawley focused his attention first on Jill, who was curled up against the wall, hugging her knees. "Jillian." he said slowly, sounding as if he were savoring the moment. "We have to have a talk."

Jill didn't move. "How did you find me?" she asked quietly.

Dawley laughed. "You stole my car, you dumb bitch. You don't think I had a security system in it?" he grimaced. "Of course, it's gone now, and I have you to thank for it. I liked that car." He took a few steps forward and crouched down next to her. "But the car, Jillian, the _car_... that's the _least_ of your worries. I got a lotta payback for you, and I'm gonna take it right out of your sweet little ass."

Jill pressed herself back against the wall and Frank felt his muscles tense. If Dawley tried to hurt Jill he would have to drop the injured act and make a move. He knew they were outnumbered, but he would have to try.

But Dawley didn't touch her. Instead, he leaned in very close, dropping his voice down to a low growl. "You want to hear your first mistake?" he drawled. When Jill didn't answer, he yelled, "_Do you?_"

"Y-yes." Jill mumbled.

"Your first mistake," Dawley said calmly, obviously pleased by her cowering, "Was making nice with that bitch Drew. You made plans with her, didn't you? You knew she was trying to kill me, and you thought you'd just _help. her. out._" he laughed. "Just where did you think I was going to look for you when you ran out on me, Jillian? You know, I wish you _had_ found her, because I've _really_ been regretting _not_ killing Miss Drew when I had the chance, and two little bitches for the price of one would have been a really nice bargain." He shook his head. "The next time I see her, I won't make the same mistake again. And speaking of mistakes... what do you think was your _second_ mistake, Jillian?"

"I-I hit you." Jill whispered.

"_You hit me._" Dawley repeated. "That's very good. You're not as stupid as you look. But, of course, you know I can't let you get away with that, don't you, sweetheart?"

He leaned closer and Jill scooted back. "Don't you touch me." she hissed out, automatically shielding herself with her plaster-encased arm.

Dawley rocked back on his heels, seemingly surprised. "Don't touch you?" he repeated. "Don't touch you?" His expression suddenly grew murderous as he roared, "_I'll touch you whenever I damn well feel like it!_" One hand snaked out and grabbed her by the neck as he dragged them both into a standing position.

Frank leaped to his feet, stumbling only slightly. "Let go of her."

Without even looking away from the girl he had pinned against the wall, Dawley drew his gun with his other hand and pointed it at Frank. "Which brings us to your _third_ mistake." He nodded to his goons, and two of them stepped forward to grab Frank's arms. "Getting a new boyfriend so _soon_ after our break up. That _hurts _me, Jillian."

Frank struggled, but the goons' grips were too strong.

"N-t... my... b-friend..." Jill choked out through Dawley's hold on her throat.

"What's that?" Dawley asked. He released her and she gasped in a few relieved gulps of air.

"He's not my boyfriend." she panted.

"Oh? He's not?" Dawley said, sticking the gun back into his waistband and coming to stand in front of Frank. "This man means nothing to you?"

Jill stayed silent. Frank got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Then you won't mind if I do _this_ to him?"

Frank doubled over, grunting as Dawley's fist collided with his solar plexus. One of the thugs let go of his arm with one hand, tangling it into Frank's hair and yanking him upright. A moment later, his head exploded with pain as Dawley's fist connected with his face. He was cocking his fist for another blow when Jill leaped forward, clinging onto his arm.

"Stop!" she cried. "He's a friend! We're just friends!"

Dawley plucked her off of his arm and tossed her against the wall as easily as if she were a rag doll. "Just friends?" he repeated. "You know, Jillian, the thing about your friends is... I really don't like your friends." He removed the handgun from his waistband once more. "I think they're a bad influence on you."

Frank felt himself being forced to his knees by the men who were holding him. One of them pushed his head down roughly, and a drop of blood dripped from his lower lip onto the cement floor. Even before Dawley began walking around him in an agonizingly slow shuffle, Frank knew what was happening. _I guess they don't call it Chicago-style murder for nothing_, he thought wildly.

Sure enough, he felt the snout of the revolver pressed against the back of his head.

Frank shut his eyes tightly. This didn't even feel real. He'd known for a long time that things could end violently for him, but he hadn't expected it to be so... unexpected. He wondered how long it would take Joe to discover what had happened to him, if there would even be a body to find. He wondered how Joe would be able to cope without him. Seeing his brother in the aftermath of Iola's death had been incredibly painful, and he wished he didn't have to put Joe through that again. He tried to remember the last thing he had said to his parents, to Aunt Gertrude. He thought about Nancy, and wished he'd given her just a little less of the distance that she'd wanted. There were a few things that he wanted too, and now he'd never get to say them to her...

"Please!" Jill had begun sobbing. She took a few steps forward before the last thug grabbed her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides. "Tommy, don't!"

"I'll give you ten seconds," Dawley said. "To say goodbye."

Frank looked up and met Jill's wide, dark eyes as she struggled helplessly against her captor.

"...Seven... six..." Dawley counted.

Frank felt the gun nestle deeper into his scalp and closed his eyes once more.

"Three... two..."

"Stop!" Jill shrieked. "Don't kill him! He's a friend of Nancy's!"

At the mention of Nancy's name, Frank's head jerked up in alarm.

Jill was still sobbing as she finished, "If she knows you have him, she'll do anything you want!"


	15. Speakerphone

A/N: Thank you to HulaHooper4426, LovePink4, Really Cinderella, AgentStriker, LazyP, the. vulture, Shenice, Fabula, and Caranath for their reviews on the last chapter. Really, **thank you**. This chapter's a longer one. Hope you enjoy it! And don't forget to review!

* * *

_The alley was just the same as she remembered it. The dingy brick walls, the busted streetlights... it was even the same time of day—just before twilight—and long shadows blanketed the quiet side street._

_Nancy swallowed, hard. The last time she had been in this alley, Ned had been alive, walking beside her._

_From somewhere just ahead, she heard sounds that made her skin crawl—grunts, moans, the slap of flesh on flesh. Mocking laughter. Heart beating double time, Nancy crept forward, crouching behind a dumpster. After a moment of gathering her courage, she peered around its edge. Her heart leaped into her throat at the sight before her._

_A group of muscled, rough-looking thugs were circled around a single bruised and bloodied man, who was struggling to stand as the rest taunted him. As Nancy watched in horror, the thugs tossed the man back and forth, giving each member of the gang the opportunity to aim a punch or kick at him. For just a second, a gap in the crowd widened enough for her to see the victim's face._

_It was Frank._

"_No!" A sharp cry escaped her throat, and she ducked back behind the dumpster, but it was too late. _

"_Lookee what we got here, fellas." She was confronted by a short, stocky man with a bandana around his bald head. He wore a sleeveless shirt that may have once been white, revealing a tattoo on his upper arm—a mark that had become painfully familiar to Nancy in the past few months. "Hey sweetheart, what can we do for you?" he said in a suggestive tone._

_Now caught, Nancy did what her brain had been screaming at her to do, she ran to Frank, pushing the other men out of her way, to their obvious amusement. She dropped to her knees beside his now-prostrate form. "Frank!"_

"_Nan..." He coughed, and a rivulet of blood dripped out of his mouth and ran down his chin. Ignoring the fear she felt, Nancy gave him her hand and he grasped it, though two of his fingers refused to bend around hers, obviously broken. He winced as she helped him sit up. _

"_Oh, you know this guy?" Bandana asked, as he and the others closed in on them. "Because we don't know you... although we'd like to, wouldn't we, boys?"_

_Some of the men chuckled as they moved in closer, leering at her. Gritting his teeth, Frank stood, trying to keep himself between the gang and Nancy._

"_I know her."_

_As bleak as the situation had looked, it wasn't until she heard the voice that came from the entrance to the alley that Nancy's blood turned to ice. "Tommy." The rest of the men forgotten, Nancy stepped around Frank to face the newcomer head-on. Then Bandana stepped out of the way, and Nancy's world was rocked to the core as she was able to see the man who accompanied him. The shock alone made her weak at the knees, her voice becoming a strangled gasp. "Ned!"_

_He was wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing the last time she'd seen him. His handsome face was marred by bruises, but when their eyes connected, Nancy could not doubt who she was seeing. "Ned..." she whispered again, making an involuntary movement towards him._

"_Not so fast." Tommy's black eyes glittered like beetles as he pressed a gun to Ned's temple, stopping her in her tracks. "This isn't a reunion tour, Miss Drew. It's a farewell concert. And I want you to tell me who's playing."_

"_What?" Nancy asked, unable to tear her eyes from Ned's face. His expression was an open book—fear... desperation... trust... love..._

_Tommy motioned to his goons and they lifted Frank and dragged him to stand next to Ned. Tommy stepped in between the two. "I'm going to kill one of these fine young men." Tommy grinned, exposing his crooked teeth. "Choose which one." _

"_What?" Nancy cried. "No! I can't. I won't!" Her eyes flitted from Frank to Ned. Frank was being supported by two men, barely conscious. Ned remained silent, but his eyes pleaded with her._

"_Ah, but you can. It's a simple question." Tommy said. "But then, we already know who you're going to choose."_

_Nancy took a single, cautious step forward. "Your issue is with me, Tommy. Forget them and take me." _

"_I'd love to, Drew." Tommy said, his hard black eyes belying his lecherous smile. "But I'm in the middle of teaching a lesson, and I'm afraid you're not really grasping the concept." He wrapped an arm around Ned's neck and ground the barrel of the gun into his head, hard enough to make Ned grimace in pain._

"_You're psychotic." she hissed. "Ned is... and Frank..." She couldn't quite complete a sentence about either one of them. She couldn't fathom losing Frank from her life, but watching Ned die again, right in front of her... could she survive that? "I'm not going to choose." she said, more firmly than she felt. Frank groaned a little bit, and his eyes blinked open slowly, dazedly. She met his familiar gaze accidentally and her eyes began to burn with tears._

"_You already have." Tommy laughed coldly. "Everything you do is about him. If there's one thing I've learned about Nancy Drew these past months, it's this: it's always," he tightened his chokehold on Ned's throat, "-Always been. about. Ned."_

_And with that, he swung the gun around and aimed it at Frank's head. A shot, a splash of blood._

_Frank crumpled to the ground._

_Nancy screamed._

"Nancy! Nancy!"

Someone was shaking her urgently. She started awake, panting and sweating. She was sitting upright in a less-than-roomy chair. Joe Hardy was sitting beside her, his arms twisted around her awkwardly in a half hug.

"You were just dreaming." He turned away from her to explain it to someone else. "She was just dreaming."

Nancy looked over to see a concerned stewardess hovering above Joe. Behind the stewardess, the people in the next aisle over stared at her, quickly returning to their conversations and reading materials once they realized they'd been caught. They were on a plane. The stewardess held out a cup of water to Nancy, which she waved away with a shaking hand.

"Sorry," Joe apologized, and her attention shifted back to him. "If I'd known you were gonna start screaming I would have woken you sooner. I just figured this might be the last chance you get to sleep for a while." His tone was casual, but he was rubbing his hand up and down her forearm in a comforting manner. "Plus, while you were sleeping you weren't giving me the cold shoulder. Although you did drool on my shoulder, a little."

Without a word, Nancy opened her seat belt and stood up, squeezing past Joe. A few people gawked at her as she fled down the aisle—she guessed she _had_ been screaming—but no one said anything. Reaching the mercifully unoccupied restroom, she threw herself into the tiny space and closed the door, leaning her back against it and finally allowing the tears to fall.

The nightmare was still with her, replaying in her head in all of its vivid, bloody detail. The gunshot, Frank's blood being sprayed along the wall, Frank's body falling, lifeless. She pressed her knuckles against her lips to keep herself from sobbing aloud.

_It's always, always been about Ned._

Dream-Tommy's voice echoed in her head, taunting her. Could the dream have meant something? Nancy normally wasn't one to put stock in dreams, but these recent ones, ones that were not simply about Ned's death, that involved Frank, always left her feeling haunted and sick. In the dream, Tommy had asked her to choose... just like Ned had, before his death. And just as when Ned had asked her, the choice was taken out of her hands.

And even though she'd never made her choice, she felt the familiar sensation of guilt simmering in her chest. Her life had never been all about Ned when he was alive... perhaps that was why she felt so guilty, now that he was dead. Was her choice really as clear as Tommy said? Was she really betraying Ned? Or was it Frank?

Up until a few weeks ago, the hunt for Tommy had been a waste of time. And now, as a punishment for her stupidity, Frank's life was on the line.

Or maybe, as the dream had indicated, he was already dead.

The seat belt light flashed on, and a flight attendant tapped gently on the door. "We're going to be landing soon. Please return to your seat."

Nancy took a few deep breaths and splashed some cool water over her face. The cold seemed to reduce the swelling around her eyes, but they were still undeniably red and blotchy. She returned to her seat and slid back in next to Joe. "Not a word." she said coolly, as he attempted to speak.

Joe ignored her. "We gotta talk about this, Nance." They were both talking in low tones so that the surrounding passengers would not hear. "Look, you don't think I'm worried about him too? I am. You don't think I feel like it's partly my fault? I do."

It went against all of her instincts not to relent and tell Joe it wasn't his fault. "I just can't believe you did that." she murmured, quietly enough that Joe had to lean in to hear her. "You knew how important this case was to me. I begged you guys to stay out of it."

"Come on." This time there was no joke in Joe's voice. "Did you forget who you were talking to? You really thought we were just going to drop this? You thought _Frank _would just drop it?"

"I don't know what I was thinking." Nancy said angrily. "Maybe that I could _trust _you. Why didn't you tell me you found Jill?"

"You _know_ why," Joe shot back. "You just said it. You weren't thinking straight. We were going to tell you once Frank checked it out. He was afraid it was a trap."

"Which it was." Nancy gritted out, tears threatening again. She realized that she was getting loud again and drawing attention, so she dropped her voice down low. "You thought I'd prefer it if Frank took my place?"

"No," Joe said, calmly. "I thought that's what Frank would prefer. Geez, Nan, I know you know how he feels about you, and you wouldn't let him get near you. You know there was nothing in the world that would stop him from solving a case if her thought you were in danger, so he went. For you. And maybe he wasn't thinking clearly, but neither are you. So maybe it's time to forget about placing blame and concentrate on finding him alive."

Nancy blinked back her tears, saying nothing. The last thing in the world she wanted to hear was that Frank had done this _for her_. Ned had investigated Tommy's gang _for her_, and he'd ended up dead. Wasn't that part of why she'd run away in the first place? So that the people she loved wouldn't have to pay the price for her cases? Especially _this _case?

"...So you can yell at _him_ for not trusting you." Joe muttered wryly.

Nancy gave him a little shove, but her heart wasn't in it. "You're right." she said softly. "Finding him is the most important thing."

The plane landed safely and uneventfully. After retrieving Nancy's checked luggage, they headed straight for the car rental counter. Although she was sure they would be happy to, Nancy had refused to ask any of her friends to meet her at the airport. In truth, while she was prepared to return to River Heights, she had no intention of "going home."

"Where to first?" Joe asked as he climbed behind the wheel of the rental. "The police station or your dad's?"

In the passenger seat, Nancy studied her clasped hands. "The police station, I suppose. I don't want to stay at my dad's, Joe."

Joe sighed. He'd been afraid that her willingness to return home had been too good to be true. "Because you don't want to face your dad?" he asked. "I know you're not crazy enough to think that he doesn't want to see you."

"I want to see him too, at least, I think I do... It's not really about that..." Nancy said, rubbing her fingers over her forehead. "I just... home is different now. Everything is different. I don't know how to deal with that."

"Nance..." Joe steepled his fingers. "Did you ever think that... maybe _you've_ changed? You're what's different."

Nancy was silent for a moment. Somewhere inside her, she knew he was right. "We don't have time for this, Joe. We need-" she was cut off by a buzzing from her cell phone, which she reached for instinctively. Her eyes widened as she saw the name on the display, and she answered the call instantly. "Frank!"

"Sorry, sweetheart. Guess again."

"Tommy." Nancy breathed. A rush of hatred bubbled through her. "Where's Frank?"

"Oh, he can't come to the phone right now." Tommy said lightly.

Nancy put the phone on speaker so that Joe, who was straining to listen, could hear too. "What do you want?" she gritted out.

"An excellent question." Tommy's voice dripped in dark glee. "I want the same thing as you do, Miss Drew. I want _revenge_. You've been a thorn in my side for months, ever since you started investigating my guys for petty theft. They were just trying to scare you off, but you couldn't let it go, could you? You had to come snooping around, and when you got what you deserved, you couldn't handle it."

"Your goons murdered my boyfriend." Nancy said, steel in her voice.

"And you got half my organization serving twenty to life for it." Tommy said. "But that wasn't enough, was it? No, instead, you run away from precious daddy and start following me around the country, and everywhere you go my guys are taking falls for stuff the cops couldn't _possibly_ have known about. And I'm supposed to think that's _coincidence?_"

"It wasn't coincidence."

"Uh huh." Tommy said. "I thought not. You've cost me, Drew. A lot of money, and a lot of friends. Which is why I'm gonna make you a deal."

Nancy's eyes met Joe's, his uneasy expression mirroring her own. "What kind of deal?"

"An exchange." Tommy said. "I have it on good authority that this Frank kid is a friend of yours. Here's the deal: you for him. You come to me, he goes free." When Nancy remained silent, he continued, "Look, the guy means nothing to me. I can shoot him right now. And I'd find you eventually, Drew. But I thought, why not make it easier for both of us? You come to me, save me the trouble of having to track you down, and I let your friend off the hook for your mistakes."

"My mistakes?"

"You tried to kill me, princess. I don't take that shit lightly." Tommy reminded her. "Look, that's the deal, you take it or you don't. What's wrong, this guy not a _good_ friend?"

Nancy pushed forward, ignoring his jibes. "How do I know you even have him, Tommy? It's not like you're renowned for your honesty or sense of fair play."

"I got his phone, don't I?" Tommy growled, clearly unhappy about being called into question.

"I need proof." Nancy pressed. "I want to talk to him."

At this, Tommy chuckled. "Like I told you before, he _really_ can't come to the phone."

Nancy was about to tell him to stop playing games when her phone beeped, indicating an incoming text message from Frank's phone. She opened it and gaped in silent horror at the picture on the screen. The man in the photo was barely recognizable as Frank due to the bruising on his face and the blood smeared over his face, hair, and clothes. He appeared to be completely unconscious, his head lolling forward and his legs sprawled out in front of him. A set of handcuffs secured him to the metal folding chair he was sitting on.

She looked up at Joe. A muscle twitched in the younger Hardy's jaw, but he said nothing.

"Nancy!" Tommy said cheerfully. "I take it from your silence that you got my text."

"You bastard." Nancy ground out.

"Well, now you know that I have him." Tommy pointed out.

"I need to know that he's _alive_." she said through gritted teeth.

Tommy sighed. "Well, if you won't take my word for it... Oh! Here's an idea. There's someone else here whose word you might trust." There was some rustling on the other end, some indistinguishable talking, and suddenly a new voice came on the phone.

"Nancy?"

A new wave of relief flooded Nancy. "Jill! Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay." Jill said quietly. "And Tommy said to tell you that Frank is alive."

"Is he, Jill?" Nancy asked desperately. "Did you check?"

"I'm checking right now." Jill said. "He's out cold, but I can feel his pulse. He's breathing, and his eyes are moving around under his eyelids. I really think he's okay, Nancy. It looks bad, but I've seen much worse."

Nancy let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. "Knowing some of the things you've seen, that doesn't make me feel a whole lot better, Jilly."

"I know." Jill's voice dropped to a whisper. "Nancy, you can't come for us. Tommy wants to kill you."

"Jill..." Nancy started to protest, but Jill continued.

"I'm so sorry I got Frank into this mess, he seems like a really amazing guy. I'll try to take care of him as long as I can."

_As long as I can_... Nancy bit her lip to hold back tears. It seemed like Jill had no illusions about the kind of punishment that was coming to her. "Jill, we're going to come for you. We'll find you, just hang on. Can you tell us where you are?"

"Nancy-" There was a squeak and a slap, and the voice changed again.

"No, I'm sorry, she _can't_ tell you that."

Nancy's blood boiled at Tommy's smug tone.

"So, are you satisfied now? Do we have a deal?"

"Not quite." Nancy said. "If I give myself up to you, I want Jill to go free, as well as Frank."

Tommy laughed. "Sorry, sugar, that ain't happening. Jill is mine. She betrayed me, and I can't allow things like that. It's not how I run my organization. I'll give Frank up alive, just Frank, and no one else. That's the deal. Do you want it or not? You're making me impatient."

"Fine. Yes. Deal." Nancy said quickly, purposefully avoiding Joe's eyes. "Where do I go?"

"I'll call you back and let you know." Tommy said. "Honestly, I've got a bitch of a night ahead of me."

"I'm sorry I don't feel sorry for you." Nancy spat.

Tommy ignored her. "I'm sure it goes without saying, but you've always been a sneaky little bitch, so I'm saying it anyway: no cops. In fact, don't tell anyone. And if I find out you _have _told someone, or you show up wearing a wire or some shit like that, you'll wish you hadn't. And if you show up with any more of your little friends, _they'll_ wish they hadn't. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good girl." Tommy said. "Be waiting for my call. You don't pick up, you know what happens." He grunted, and Nancy distinctly heard the clang of a folding chair and the thump of a falling body before the call disconnected.

After a moment of silence, Joe reached over and took the phone from her shaking hands. "Nance..."

"Don't say it. I know I can't go through with it." Nancy murmured. "We need a plan." She hoisted her laptop out of her laptop case and booted it up. "The only thing I can think of is to find out where he's got Frank before he makes the call."

"Yeah..." Joe said slowly. "Maybe we can catch him off guard."

"The problem is... he could be anywhere. He personally owns six properties in Chicago, not to mention all the territory his gang controls." As she spoke, she was compiling a list of all of Tommy's known addresses and hangouts.

Joe nodded. "Frank told me about him." he said in a blank voice.

Nancy looked over at him. He was still holding her phone, staring at the photo of Frank that Tommy had taken. Pursing her lips, she reached over to put a comforting hand on his arm. "We'll find him, Joe."

"What?" He looked up. Obviously he'd been concentrating, and not worrying like she'd thought. "I know we will. Check this out." He handed the phone back to her. "See that thing behind Frank? It looks like it's covered with a cloth, but can you tell what it is?"

Nancy frowned, squinting at the tiny cell phone picture. "I'm not sure. Hang on." Quickly she emailed the photo to herself, opening it on her laptop screen and enlarging it. "It looks like... a drum set."

Joe looked bemused. "Okay, so we're looking for... maybe some kind of old concert hall or nightclub?"

"They could just be stashing him in some drummer's basement, Joe. Heck, he wouldn't even have to be a drummer. Everybody's got weird crap in their basements." Nancy pointed out skeptically, but she was scanning her list for potential sites.

Joe was reading over her shoulder. "What's _Blood, Sweat, and Vinyl_?"

"It's... a little record store downtown." Nancy said. "Bess used to date a guy who worked there. Obviously this was before I found out about its mob ties." She frowned. Had Bess's old boyfriend really worked for Tommy? That couldn't be right. "Wait, her boyfriend didn't _work_ at the store. He _played _there." Her eyes widened. "There was a practice space in the back that local bands could sign up to use for free."

Joe reached over and clicked back to the picture of Frank. "Is this _it_, Nan?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, I was never back there. I've been in the store, though. Years ago. I... I _think_ it was built from stone, like this is." Then she gasped, suddenly remembering something. "The practice space was soundproof. So the musicians wouldn't disturb the patrons in the store."

"Soundproof." Joe repeated, a sick look on his face. "So they could be doing anything they wanted back there, and no one would hear them." He turned the keys in the ignition. "Right now, that's good enough for me."


	16. A Hot Time in the Old Town

A/N: It should be noted that I did make a tiny change to the previous chapter, since I forgot a detail that was relatively unimportant but would make me look stupid if anybody noticed! ;) Don't bother rereading for it, just know that if you happen to remember me having written something else, you're not crazy.

As always, thank you to every one of my fantastic reviewers. I really do appreciate every review. Hope you enjoy this next chapter!

* * *

It was a half-hour drive to Blood, Sweat, and Vinyl, even with Joe's skillful driving and questionable adherence to speeding laws. Nancy grew quiet as they approached their destination, unease welling up inside her as every second brought them closer and closer to Tom Dawley.

"Joe, when we get there..." Nancy said softly. "What's the plan?"

Joe shrugged tense shoulders. "Play it by ear?"

Nancy was torn. Half of her wanted to do just that—charge straight into the lion's den and find Frank, no matter what it took. She and the Hardys had worked well as a team in the past, somehow finding their way out of the most hopeless situations with nothing but their guts and ingenuity. But this... this was different. This was walking unprepared into the territory of a man who would kill her and Joe without a second thought. She had made that mistake once, and Ned had died because of it.

Her nightmares had never seemed more real as Joe guided the rental down the poorly-lit Chicago streets. Although the majority of Tommy's gang had been relocated to the state prison (due in large part to Nancy's efforts), the few who remained in their former stronghold were sure to be crafty, violent, and angry.

But what else could she do? If there was one thing that she knew for sure, it was that the slightest whiff of police involvement would make Tommy act on his threat to kill Frank. If they could only get in there somehow and get out with Frank...

Joe parked around the corner and down the block, out of sight of the record store. The street was quiet, the shops and businesses closed and dark. Cautiously, Joe got out of the car.

Nancy lingered for a moment, fishing a small metal box out of the bag at her feet. Opening the lock, she quickly slipped its contents into the pocket of her jacket. She knew Joe knew what she was doing, although he pretended not to. "Let's go." she said.

They walked quickly through the darkened streets, thankfully not meeting anyone. When they reached Blood, Sweat, and Vinyl, Joe turned to Nancy. "Front door or back?" he whispered.

Nancy considered. "Back." she said finally. The practice space was in the basement, which would be accessible by the back door. Blessedly, there was a small, barred window into the room. The glass was covered in grime, but the light inside ensured that she and Joe could peer inside without being spotted from within. They hunkered down beside the window and took a look.

Immediately Nancy knew that this was where the picture of Frank had been taken. The half-covered drum set sat in the corner, undisturbed, the metal folding chair upended beside it. However, there was no sign of Frank, Tommy, or Jill.

Two men were standing next to it, talking. As she watched, a third man came through the door separating the practice space from the record shop. He was carrying two large red jugs that Nancy recognized with a sickening realization. "Gasoline." she murmured. "They're getting ready to burn the place. Why?" She looked at Joe. His face was white as a sheet, and she didn't think it was a trick of the moonlight.

"Blood." he said weakly.

She followed his line of sight to the yellowed keyboard that stood just to the left of the drum set. Behind it was a wooden door, a supply closet, if she had to guess. Then she saw what had left Joe so shaken.

Oozing out from beneath the door was a dark puddle, slowly spreading. In the light from the dim hanging bulbs it took on a brownish color, but her instinct told her that it was exactly what Joe had said. Blood. And a lot of it.

Her stomach turned. Could a person lose that much blood and survive? What would they find if they opened that closet?

_Who _would they find?

Now the men were in the process of pouring the gasoline around the room. They paid special attention to the area around the closet door, dousing the surrounding walls, the wooden stage, and the instruments. One of the men looked at his watch and made impatient gestures, but his words were inaudible through the thick glass.

"We have to get in there." Joe muttered. "If that's Frank-"

"It's not Frank." Nancy said firmly.

The impatient man was fiddling with a packet of matches while his companions finished emptying their canisters.

"Should we try to stop them?" Nancy asked.

"Three of them against two of us." Joe said. "And they're armed."

Nancy pursed her lips but didn't comment.

"We have to get in there, though. Whoever is in the closet might still be alive." Joe continued.

Nancy stood up, tensing herself for action. "So we wait until they leave, then run in and get him out."

"Uh, Nance, you're forgetting one thing. When they leave..." Joe said. The three men exited through the record store entrance. The last one out struck a pair of matches and tossed them onto the drum set's drop cloth before shutting the door behind him. The gasoline-soaked cloth ignited immediately, filling the basement with light. "...The place will be on fire." he finished.

"Then we hurry." Nancy said tautly. They heard a slam as the thugs escaped through the front door, and she took off running to the back stairs, Joe on her heels. Amazingly, the door was unlocked. She wrenched it open.

A wave of heat came rolling out at them. In the few seconds it had taken them to run from the window to the door, half of the room had caught fire. The wooden platform was blazing merrily. Even the stone walls were visibly scorched.

Barely audible over the crackling flames came a muffled scream.

Pulling her shirt up over her nose and mouth, Nancy plunged into the flames, beelining for the supply closet. The fire had yet to reach the closet, and her feet splashed through puddles of blood-swirled gasoline before reaching the door. She opened the closet, and her heart sank in her chest. "Jill!"

The tiny brunette lay crumpled on the floor of the small closet amongst mops, brooms, and various cleaning supplies. Her half-lidded eyes contained no spark of recognition as she stared pitifully up at Nancy. She had one hand pressed against a large, dark stain on the side of her sky-blue cardigan, a sweater that Nancy vaguely recognized as one of her own. Blood dripped off the tips of her fingers and into the ever-spreading pool on the floor.

Suddenly, Joe was on his knees beside her, reaching for Jill's hand. She shrieked, tugging away weakly, panic in her eyes. "Shot!" he called to Nancy. "We've gotta get her out!"

Nancy nodded, focusing on the advancing flames. "Can you carry her?" Sparks flew into the air as the fire reached the electronic keyboard, warping and melting the plastic and spewing foul-smelling smoke. She snatched up the drop cloth covering it before it could catch and began to beat back the flames nearest the closet, but it was clear she was fighting a losing battle.

"I could if she would let me!" Joe said before succumbing to a brief coughing fit. Jill continued to struggle as best she could, but her strength was fading rapidly.

"Jilly!" Nancy yelled. Briefly, she pulled down her shirt so that Jill could see her face. "It's me! Becca! We're your friends!"

Jill only stared at her.

Nancy abandoned the seared drop cloth and crawled to Jill's side, grasping one of her bloody hands. "Jill, it's me. We're gonna get you out of here, okay?" she said, her voice conveying a calm she could not feel. "I just need to know one thing, Jilly. Is Frank in here somewhere? Frank?"

Jill's breathing was erratic, but when her eyes met Nancy's, she gave a deliberate shake of her head.

Joe took the opportunity to scoop her into his arms, as gently as he could, and lift her up. She groaned in pain as he ran for the door, then whimpered and was silent. Nancy was hot on his heels as they emerged into the cool night air, gasping for breath. She supported Jill's legs as Joe eased her limp form to the ground on the other side of the street. "Jill? Jilly!" she called frantically.

The girl's battered face was still as stone.

Joe was checking her pulse. "It's there, but it's faint." he murmured. He opened Jill's cardigan to get a better look at the wound. "She needs a doctor, now."

Nancy already had her phone out, calling for an ambulance and the fire department. Just as she hung up, it immediately began to ring in her hand. "No..." she whispered, as Frank's name appeared on the screen. It had only been an hour, she'd had no time at all to plan what she would do at the hostage swap. Coughing the last remnants of smoke out of her throat, she answered the phone. "Tommy. I didn't expect to hear from you so soon."

"Nancy." his slimy voice greeted her. "I made some openings in my schedule; I guess I'm just eager to see you. Where are you?"

Nancy made a quick decision to lie. "The airport." she said through gritted teeth, tears forming in her eyes as she watched Joe struggle to revive Jill. If Tommy knew they were here, she had no doubt he'd send his goons back to finish them all off.

"Excellent." Tommy said. "Then it should only take you half an hour to get to St. Peter's."

Nancy could have screamed in anger. Of course, of all the places he could have chosen to make the trade, he chose St. Peter's. "Forty five minutes." she said, her voice vibrating with fury. "I need to rent a car."

"Half an hour." Tommy repeated. "Don't forget to come alone. And don't be late."

The phone went dead.

Nancy turned to Joe wordlessly, sick, lost, overwhelmed. Smoke drifted between them, and the air was filled with the sounds of wood popping and glass shattering as the fire in the record store continued to burn.

"Where?" Joe asked quietly.

"St. Peter's church. Half an hour." Nancy whispered.

"How far?"

"Forty minutes. If I'm lucky."

Joe's jaw tightened, and he swallowed hard. "Dammit. Nancy... you can't."

"I have to." she said. "I-I need the keys."

"You can't." Joe argued, his voice hoarse. "It's suicide."

"Not necessarily." Nancy said. She patted the pocket of her jacket, hoping to reassure him, even if it wasn't exactly comforting herself. "I need the keys."

"I should go with you." Joe protested desperately, but he was still applying pressure to Jill's wound, instinctually falling back on his paramedic training.

"You have to stay with her." Nancy reminded him. "And I have to go alone. Joe, please, the keys."

Joe took one hand away from Jill's side to dig into his pants pocket. When he handed over the keys to the rental car, they were sticky with blood.

"I'll figure something out." she promised, accepting them with a shaking hand. "Thanks, Joe."

She was just a few steps down the block when Joe called to her. She spun around to look at him, feeling brittle and desperate. It was probably the last time she would see him.

"Yes?" she said.

He seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment, his handsome features bathed in the glow of the burning building. Sirens sounded somewhere in the distance. "Good luck." he said finally.

She nodded, a little too quickly for it to look natural. "You too." she forced out, before turning around and walking back into the dark.


	17. The Little Black Box

A/N: Man, I am on a _roll_ with this writing thing. And you guys... you're just fantastic. Thanks a million to anette95, Lovepink, cutiepuffgirl, Really Cinderella, Shenice, Albany, Caranath, Samuel. j. 1993, the. vulture, and TrixieNancy124 for your reviews. You're all going to _hate_ me at the end of this one, but if you keep reviewing like this, I PROMISE to get the next chapter up pronto!

* * *

A numbness spread through Nancy as she walked away from Joe. She had vowed to go after Ned's killer alone, but how quickly she'd become used to working in a team again, to the comfort of having someone she trusted at her back.

And now, she felt more alone than she had since Ned's death. Frank's life was in her hands, hers alone. And if it came down to it, she would trade herself for him.

There was no question.

Her quest for revenge had been nothing short of a failure. She'd run from her father and Hannah, from Bess and George. From Frank and Joe. She'd pushed them all away, she'd hurt them, all in the name of committing a horrible deed that would only make her more like the man she wanted revenge on. She'd gotten Jill and Frank kidnapped and beaten... Might even, before the night was out, have gotten them killed. And to top it off, the odds were good that by sunrise, she'd be bringing them all more sorrow in the form of her own death.

Instead of punishing Tommy, she'd punished herself, and the people who cared about her.

She was not consciously aware of her driving, speeding through the city on some half-dazed autopilot, as if she were being drawn to her destination by some magnetic force. She was driving much too fast—would have to if she was going to meet Tommy's deadline—but somehow she knew that no policeman would pull her over. Not tonight.

The buildings dropped away from around her as she drove along the highway leading out of the city. It was the same road she would take to get back to River Heights. If things went badly tonight, would she ever go back to River Heights? And if—oh god—if something were to happen to Frank, Bayport would be just as tainted, that she knew.

With a guilty start, she realized that she'd forgotten to call off work in the morning, then shook the ridiculous thought out of her head. She was easily replaceable, and Maxine would forgive her.

A few miles before the River Heights exit, Nancy got off the highway, entering a suburban development she knew well. Ned's parents lived near here. She continued past the turnoff for their street, past the residential neighborhoods. The church was a little ways past the houses, on the outskirts of town. It was a straight shot, just a few miles now. Looking at the dashboard clock, she saw that she somehow, miraculously, had seven minutes left. More than enough time.

She'd tossed her phone into the empty passenger seat, and now she reached for it, thumbing off the key lock and dialing a number she knew by heart. It rang only one and a half times.

"Nancy! Sweetheart, are you all right?"

Warmth flooded through her at the familiar sound of that voice. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she fought to keep her voice steady. "Hi, Dad."

"Are you all right?" Carson repeated. "Nancy?"

"Yeah," Nancy said. "Yeah, I'm all right." Suddenly she realized why he sounded so concerned, and for some reason, it brought a smile to her face. "I'm sorry for calling in the middle of the night." she apologized. "I didn't mean to wake you, I wasn't thinking."

"Don't apologize, it's fine." Carson said warmly. She heard the click of his nightstand lamp, could picture him right now, at the moment, sitting up in bed. "It's good to hear your voice, sweetheart."

"Yours too." Nancy said.

There was a moment of silence before Carson said, "I thought you might be someone calling with news of Frank or Jill." He paused, and guilt was audible in his voice. "I'm so sorry about Frank, honey. If I'd-"

"It's okay." Nancy cut him off. "It's not your fault, Dad. And-and we'll find him. I know we will... I wasn't really calling to talk about Frank." In truth, she didn't know if she _could_ talk about Frank with her father, not here, not now.

"Oh," Carson said, sounding a bit confused. "Then... what _were_ you calling about?"

Nancy took a deep breath. "I... I had a nightmare. And I just, I just needed to talk to you." she said. "I know it's stupid... I miss you." Ahead, the little church came into view, perched atop a gently-sloping hill.

"I miss you too, sweetheart." her father said. "Do you want to tell me about it? The nightmare?"

"Um... actually, no." Nancy said sheepishly. "I just wanted to hear your voice, you know?"

"I understand perfectly." Carson said. "...I wish you'd come home. Hannah keeps promising to bake things when you do."

Nancy's laugh was slightly watery. "Bribery, Dad? You're shameless."

"I didn't get where I am in life by _not_ using all the tools at my disposal." Carson teased. "And Hannah's excellent desserts just happen to fall under that category."

"I'm not sure _she'd_ agree with that." Nancy scoffed. She turned into the long driveway that led into the St. Peter's parking lot. "I'm going to let you go back to sleep, Dad. Sorry for waking you. And tell Hannah I said hi."

"I will," Carson said. "I love you, Nancy."

Nancy blinked, and a couple of tears fell, but she held her voice steady. Breezy, even. "I love you too, Dad. Good night."

"Good night."

She parked her car near the entrance, getting out and looking around carefully. There were no other cars in sight. Floodlights illuminated the little church, two stories tall with its single bell tower. The parking lot, too, was well-lit, with lampposts every few rows. It wrapped around the back of the church, allowing easy access to the cemetery.

Nancy took a few shaky steps away from the car. She'd expected the graveyard to be scary at night, especially during a rendezvous with a killer, but the cemetery at St. Peter's was almost... friendly. It was beautiful, no doubt, the green grass lush and well-kept, the marble stones, tombs, and statues clean and straight. There was a bright, cared-for look about the church and its grounds, even in the dead of night. Unfortunately, the peace and quiet made it an excellent spot for a hostage drop. There would be no witnesses around at this time of night, and any noise they might make would not carry as far as the nearby neighborhoods. Of course, Nancy doubted that was Tommy's only rationale for choosing this particular place. No, he was taunting her.

The last time she'd been to St. Peter's was the day of Ned's funeral.

Nancy dug her hands into the pockets of her jacket, but the cool metal of the gun in her palm did nothing to calm her. Sticking close to the church, she edged around the corner, peering into the back half of the parking lot.

Sure enough, parked back there was a single car, a nondescript, slightly battered-looking, dark-colored four door.

Standing beside it was Tom Dawley.

Like Nancy, he had his hands shoved in his pockets, which was a dead giveaway that he was armed, just as she'd expected him to be. She raised her chin, approaching him, but stopping several yards away. "Tommy."

"Miss Drew." Tommy replied nastily. He checked his watch, confirming that his left hand, at least, was empty. "You're two minutes late."

"I parked out front." Nancy said. "Where's Frank?"

"Where do you think?" Tommy snorted. He stepped a few feet to one side, and Nancy could see that the streetlight above clearly illuminated the inside of the vehicle. Frank was in the passenger seat, his handcuffs looped through the handle over the window, effectively trapping him in the car. His gray shirt was stained with dried blood. He was blindfolded.

As Nancy watched, Frank moved slightly, as if testing his chains. A flood of relief washed through her; she hadn't realized just how afraid she'd been for him until this moment. His movement told her two things: one, that he was alive, and two, that the handcuffs were secure. She couldn't tell how badly hurt he was, or whether he was alert. She wished she could see his eyes... they usually told her everything she needed to know.

"Well, I came," she said to Tommy. "So release him. That was our deal."

Tommy rubbed his stubbled chin with one hand. "That's not _quite_ how it's gonna work, Drew. Here's my plan: you give me the keys to _your_ car, we drive away, and loverboy just stews here in the parking lot for as long as it takes him to pick the lock on those handcuffs, or until the altar boys start showing up, whichever comes first. That way, I don't have to worry about him trying to follow us."

Nancy didn't particularly like that plan. "At least uncuff him." she insisted angrily. "He's not going to be in any position to follow us, you already beat the hell out of him. He needs medical care."

She reached for the door handle, but Tommy grabbed her arm, jerking her away from the vehicle. "Just what do you think you're doing?" He tossed her to the ground and she caught herself instinctively, her palms scraping on the asphalt.

"I want to talk to him." Nancy said angrily.

"That wasn't part of the deal." Tommy said. "Sorry, toots."

"Nancy," Frank spoke up, his voice muffled inside the car. "Are you okay?" He wasn't really facing in their direction; Nancy guessed he was concentrating more on listening to what was going on.

"Shut up!" Tommy ordered. He brought his right hand, clutching a revolver, out of his pocket and slammed it down on the car, denting the roof directly over Frank's head. As he did, the revolver went off, the bullet speeding harmlessly into the air.

Frank panicked at the sound of the shot, yanking helplessly at the cuffs. "NANCY!"

"I'm fine!" Nancy reassured him quickly. "Frank, I'm okay."

Tommy's face grew stormy at having his direct order disobeyed. He slammed the gun down again. "Shut _up_!" he roared. This time, the stray bullet found a target. There was a sound of breaking glass and their section of the parking lot was plunged into darkness.

Nancy spoke before Frank could panic again. "Property damage is one thing, Tommy, but this is a _church_." she said scornfully, looking up at the busted streetlamp.

"Then they can take up a collection to have it _fixed_." Tommy sneered. "Your keys, Drew."

Nancy hesitated for only a second. If she got in the car with Tommy and let him take her somewhere, she didn't like her own odds for survival. "Not particularly religious, then?" she asked lightly, reaching the key out towards him. "Why am I not _surprised_." On the last word, she grabbed the wrist holding the gun, keeping it pointed away from her as she used her other hand to ram the car key into one of his eyes.

He turned his head and she missed, gouging a long scratch over his face that almost matched the laceration Jill had given him. He howled. "You bit-!" He cut himself off with a gasp as she twisted in his arms, first driving her elbow into his side, and then her foot into his groin.

He was in pain, but the pain seemed to make him stronger. Somehow, he managed to grab her by the hair. Her scalp burned as he yanked her back, her face nearly touching the bloody scratch on his cheek. "That was stupid, Drew, real stupid." he growled between pants. He threw her to the ground again, aiming the revolver at her head.

With no time left, she desperately hooked one foot around his knee, pulling him off-balance. The bullet ricocheted off the pavement. Tommy leaned back against the car, trying to line up another shot, but Nancy rolled away, leaping to her feet. Everything inside her told her to run, so she did, bolting toward the end of the parking lot and into the cemetery. Tommy was screaming and cursing. Bullets whizzed after her, chipping marble off of the nearby headstones as she ran.

Tommy was following her now, she could hear his steps on the gravel path that wound through the burial plots. She ducked behind the cover of a tall tombstone, her heart in her throat. What had she been planning to do? If Tommy killed her now, she had no doubt that he would dispose of Frank without a second thought.

And now he was angry. She could hear his breathing somewhere nearby, huffing like a raging bull. Using the tombstones and crypts for cover, she edged deeper and deeper into the cemetery. What she would do when she got to the edge... she didn't know.

"Drew!" Tommy yelled. "Get back here! We had a deal! Your ass is _mine_!" He waited for the sound of her voice so he could make his next shot, but Nancy didn't reply.

She dropped to a crouch, pressing her back against a headstone, and looked around frantically as Tommy drew closer. She had no idea how many bullets the revolver held, or how many were left. She needed inspiration, a weapon, _something. _But the cemetery was too clean; there were no loose rocks lying around, no rusted fenceposts... Her eyes lit upon a ceramic vase sitting next to the gravestone. With a mental apology to the family of the grave's occupant, she snatched up the vase, shaking the dried flowers out of it. She held it by its neck as she slipped over to the next memorial, a large statue of an angel. She was hidden by the angel's wings as Tommy stalked down the path, gun drawn.

Nancy ceased to breathe as he approached, fearful that even the slightest sound would give her away. Just as Tommy passed her, she raised the vase and brought it down on his head with all the force she could muster. It shattered in her hands. Tommy crumpled to the ground, the revolver falling out of his grip. Quickly, she kicked it out of sight behind some headstone.

Nancy was panting now, fear and adrenaline pumping through her veins. Something wasn't right. This wasn't over. "Hey!" she yelled at Tommy. She couldn't see his face; he was lying on his stomach, but he didn't move. Then she saw his left hand sneaking toward his pocket. "Don't move!" she cried.

But it was too late. In his hand, Tommy clutched a small black box, about the size of a cell phone. "No, Drew. _You_ don't move."

Nancy froze obediently, realizing immediately what she was staring at; she had seen her fair share of these little black boxes. _A detonator_. "Where is it?" she asked. The blood drained out of her face as she realized, "Your car."

Tommy rolled over, the grin on his blood-streaked face letting her know he'd won. "Did you really think I was going to let your boyfriend walk away from this, after everything he's learned?" he asked, slowly getting to his feet as Nancy watched, fists clenched helplessly. Then he laughed. "Your _new_ boyfriend, I mean..." he looked around at the tombstones that surrounded them. "Hey, your first boyfriend oughtta be around here somewhere too, huh? The gang's all here!"

Nancy saw red. "How _dare_ you..." she spat.

Tommy smirked, holding up the detonator. A trickle of blood ran down his cheek, but he didn't even seem to notice. "You know, I'd planned on waiting until we were driving away in your car to push this button. But this is better."

"Don't." Nancy warned, fire in her eyes.

"Or what? You'll _kill_ me?" Tommy gloated. "I've heard you sing that tune before, princess. How's that going for you?"

Her eyes burned with tears, but she refused to let them fall. "Even if you kill me, there's evidence. I gave it to Joe, and he's probably given it to the cops by now." She was bluffing now, the only card left in her hand. "You're going to jail for your involvement in Ned's murder, and in Jill's. You really want to do time for Frank, too? He means nothing to you, you said it yourself."

Tommy flinched slightly at the mention of Jill, but he didn't back down. "Ah, but he means something to you, doesn't he?"

Nancy was silent. Her eyes flicked back to Tommy's car briefly, sitting alone in the parking lot, still in shadow, the door still closed.

"A good friend, then." Tommy taunted, reading her face. "A _very _good friend. I hope you said goodbye." He shook his head. "Your boyfriend's death was an accident. Jillian's was... regrettable. But Frank's... Frank's will be a _pleasure_. You've ruined my life, Nancy Drew. Allow me to do the same for you."

"You don't want to do this!" Nancy shrieked.

"Oh, I _really._ _think. I. do._" Tommy gritted out gleefully. He pushed the button.

In the parking lot, his car erupted into a fireball.


	18. Found and Lost

A/N: You guys are phenomenal. Thank you so much for all your feedback (even though I tortured you with cliffie after cliffie!) Thanks to the. vulture, rabbitlavell, cuteypuffgirl (sorry I misspelled your name!), Guest, Really Cinderella, P-51DMustang, anette95 (good catch, but you'll see!), TrixieNancy124, gwen, Agent Striker, Caranath, MCR-1993, LazyP, Ealasaid Una, and Shenice for your reviews!

But you don't want to read about how much I appreciate you... on with the chapter! I hope it lives up to your expectations!

* * *

"_FRANK!"_

The explosion echoed in Nancy's ears so loudly that she could barely hear herself scream. Metal and glass debris rained from the sky, littering the parking lot. Slightly outside the affected explosion radius, Nancy took a few unsteady steps towards the burning vehicle, but it only took one look at the leaping flames to know that no one inside could have survived it.

Frank was dead.

Her eyes couldn't focus, her breath came in racking gasps. She stood there, staring, as a physical pain ignited in her chest, radiating outward through her limbs until her entire body ached with grief. It didn't seem possible.

But it was.

"I thought that might take some of the fight out of you."

Tommy's words washed over her, but she barely heard him. Slowly, his voice filtered through to her consciousness, and she turned to look at him. "_What?_" she rasped.

The sight of him galvanized her, loosened her chest, steadied her hands. She'd spent the past year hating this man, and now... something beyond hatred coursed through her, a feeling that wasn't as hot as anger or as bitter as vengeance, but just as intense.

Tommy opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she lunged at him. Surprised, he stumbled back a few steps, but she caught him and they crashed to the ground. Her hands found their way around his throat, and for a moment she felt strong enough to just close them, to just squeeze and choke the life right out of him. Then his hands were on her shoulders, shoving her away, flipping them both over so that he had the upper hand. He slammed her against the ground forcefully. Her handgun slid out of her pocket and skittered across the gravel path.

A pause. Her cold eyes met his black ones. At exactly the same moment, they dove for the gun, each laying a hand on it, grappling for control.

Tommy was stronger.

He pinned her to the ground, triumphant, and pressed the barrel against her forehead. He was too winded to make a final taunt, to truly savor his victory, so he simply pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

His dark eyebrows drew together in confusion as he pulled the trigger again and again. Sensing her window of opportunity, Nancy used what strength she had left to strike upward with her palm, hitting him in the nose. She felt it break under her hand and he screamed, showering them both with a spray of blood. She pushed him off of her. In one smooth, final move she extracted her gun from his grip and brought the butt down on the crown of his head. He stopped screaming and toppled to the ground, motionless.

Mechanically, Nancy set the gun down on the ground. She rolled the unconscious man onto his side, letting the blood drip out of his mouth and onto the grass. She checked his pulse—present, though sluggish. Then she stood up and walked away from him. She got only a few feet before her knees threatened to collapse on her, so she reached out with her hands, managing to secure a perch on a thick gray slab of a tombstone.

Her phone had somehow managed to survive the confrontation unscathed, and she pulled it out of her pocket and stared at it as though she had never seen it before. Did she call the police? The fire department? Her father?

Joe?

_God, Joe. _The prospect of telling Joe what had happened robbed her of the last remnants of her willpower. Her hands, which had been so steady during the fight with Tommy, were now shaking badly. The phone dropped from her numb fingers into the soft grass, and she just let it lie there.

The sound of jingling metal came from Tommy's direction, and Nancy turned her head blindly, the notion of mounting any kind of mental or physical defense long past her now.

Frank Hardy was crouched by Tommy's body, using the handcuffs to secure the man's hands behind his back. He looked up at her and smiled.

* * *

Frank's head ached. He was sleep-deprived, bruised, and battered. His ears were still ringing from being too close to the car when the bomb went off, and the lump at the base of his skull where he had hit his head when he was thrown backward by the explosion throbbed painfully.

But none of the mattered when Nancy looked at him.

Her face was pale, smudged with ash and dirt, flecked with droplets of blood. Her eyes were wide, blue, and haunted with doubt. She whispered his name.

He let go of the unconscious Dawley and stood up, and that was all the time it took for her to take a few shaky steps forward and throw herself into his arms. It hurt a bit—he was fairly certain his torso was one big bruise—but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. "It's alright." he murmured huskily. "You're all right now."

"You're alive." she whispered hoarsely. She was clutching him as if he were the only thing keeping her standing, and maybe he was. Her face was buried in his shoulder, and he felt her shuddering breath on his neck as she questioned, "How?"

"What, you thought you were the only one who could rescue yourself?" he quipped, but she didn't laugh, didn't even loosen her hold on him. He stroked his hand over her hair repentantly. "I picked the lock on the handcuffs while you were fighting with Tom. I wasn't in the car when it exploded, but the blast knocked me backward and I hit my head. I must have blacked out for a few minutes. When I came to you already had the situation under control."

"_Under control..._" she repeated under her breath, as though the situation had been anything but that.

"I couldn't have done it if you hadn't been distracting him." he told her. "God, Nan, when I heard him shooting, I went crazy. I thought..." Being blindfolded, hearing the shots and not knowing if or when they hit their target... he had never felt so helpless in his life. He didn't finish the sentence, just held her tight and took a deep breath. She smelled like smoke and strawberries and gasoline.

She pulled back a few inches to rest a hand on the side of his face, her touch somehow feather light despite being gritty with dirt and dried blood. "I'm sorry, Frank. I'm so sorry. For everything. For... for getting you involved in this, and... and for asking you to stay away."

Frank smiled, running his hand up her arm and clasping her hand in his. "I'm sorry I didn't get involved sooner." he said. "But you don't have to apologize for needing space, Nan. I get it."

"I don't want to lose you." she told him softly.

"You won't." he promised, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her gently on the forehead. Just being with her, safe and alive, having her pull him closer instead of pushing him away, was a rush he hadn't anticipated feeling again. But, as was ever the case with him and Nancy, this was neither the time nor place to tell her how he felt, no matter what he had promised himself when there was a gun to his head.

He took her hand again and walked over to where she had dropped her cell phone, picking it up. Nancy sank back down on the marble headstone as he had a quick conversation with the dispatcher, who assured him that emergency services were on their way. Fatigue seemed to set into his bones as he hung up, all of the aches and pains of the past ten hours hitting him at once—had it only been ten hours since Dawley had held him and Jill at gunpoint in the parking lot of the River Heights police station?

_Jill... _

A wave of sorrow washed over him as he remembered waking up on the floor in Dawley's basement, his arms cuffed to an overturned folding chair and his head in Jill's lap. She was hardly in any condition to defend him physically, and she'd had no supplies to treat his cuts and bruises, but she'd done the best that she could under Dawley's menacing gaze, slipping him one of the bobby pins out of her hair when no one was looking.

He reached into his pocket and fingered the twisted sliver of metal that he had used to open the handcuffs. If it wasn't for Jill, he'd be dead now. And as he'd been forced into the car to come here, he'd watched as Dawley shot her in cold blood.

"She was still alive when we found her." Nancy said quietly, and Frank looked up, startled. Had he said Jill's name aloud, or had Nancy read his mind? "She was in bad shape, but she was alive."

_We?_ Frank's mind dimly registered. "Joe-" he began.

"Safe." Nancy answered. "I left him with Jill."

Frank nodded, sitting down on the grass. There were other questions, but they weren't important now.

They heard sirens a few minutes later and watched as the emergency vehicles sped up the lonely road, lights flashing. Firefighters immediately went to work extinguishing the remains of the burning car. Two police cruisers also pulled up, followed by an ambulance. The paramedics went straight to Dawley, who was still out cold, while the cops began setting up a perimeter.

Nancy and Frank were approached by the first officer, a tall man in his late thirties with sandy blond hair. "I'm Officer Reed." he introduced himself. "I take it you're the ones who made the call. Are you folks okay?"

The question almost seemed ludicrous, given the amount of blood, dirt, and ash they were both sporting. Frank looked at Nancy, and then back at the officer. "I think we've been better, but no pressing injuries." he said.

"Frank, you were knocked out by the explosion," Nancy said, concern in her voice. "On top of everything else you've been through tonight. You should get looked at."

"So should you, Nan, you were the one wrestling a gun-toting psychopath." Frank pointed out fondly.

Their eyes met, their faces illuminated by the red and blue flashing lights. "Later." they said in unison.

Officer Reed looked between them, a bemused expression on his face. "Either of you feel up to telling me what exactly went on here tonight?"

"Sorry," Frank apologized. "I'm Frank Hardy, and this is Nancy Drew."

Reed nodded. "We've got cops looking for you all over the city. Not to mention a certain police chief out in River Heights who'll be glad to know you're both okay."

Reed took notes as Frank quickly explained how Dawley had managed to kidnap him and Jill, how he'd threatened Nancy to get her to meet him, and how he'd blown up the car, thinking that Frank was still inside. Nancy told him about the fire in the record store and the rescue of Jill. Then she briefly went over the details of what had happened while Frank was unconscious.

At that point, Reed went to radio the station and the paramedics took over, assessing the detectives' cuts and bruises. Dawley was taken away. The scene was processed, the detonator, the smashed vase, Dawley's revolver, and Nancy's handgun all collected and bagged as evidence.

Frank sat on a low stone bench as the paramedic quickly cleaned up the blood-crusted cut on the back of his head where Dawley had smacked him with the revolver, and offered him an ice pack for the rising goose egg from the explosion. Then she shined a penlight into his eyes, checking him for concussion. She asked him if he was having problems with his vision, or if he felt dizzy or nauseous.

"No." Frank said. "Mostly relieved... and tired."

The paramedic chuckled. "You must have a hard head, Mr. Hardy."

"You should meet my brother."

She pronounced him concussion-free, but cautioned that he should get checked out at the hospital anyway. "If nothing else," she said, "See if they can give you some painkillers for those bruises. Something tells me you're really going to be hurting in the morning."

"I'm sensing that myself." Frank replied with a groan. He stood up.

"Hey, Frank," Reed called over to him. "You want a ride to the hospital?"

Frank sighed. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to find a warm bed to crawl into and sleep for a few days. However, he was also worried about Jill's condition, and he suspected that the hospital was the best place to find her, and, if he was lucky, Joe too. The paramedic's suggestion about painkillers hadn't been a half-bad idea either. "That'd be great." he called back. "Thanks."

He looked around for Nancy and felt a momentary jolt of fear when he couldn't sight her right away. His eyes skimmed the parking lot, the emergency personnel, the yellow tape, the smoking wreck of Dawley's car... He turned around and saw her a ways away, in a quiet corner of the cemetery, head bowed, hands deep in her pockets. It didn't take a detective to know whose grave she was standing at.

She had told him that she didn't want to lose him, that she didn't want to push him away anymore, but he couldn't help thinking that going over to her now would be an unforgivable intrusion on her private grief.

But as he stood watching her, she looked up, meeting his gaze.

He took a few cautious steps towards her, then a few more, until he was standing at her side. She bent down and skimmed her fingers over the smooth, flat top of the grave marker in front of them. The stone was light gray, almost white, gleaming in the faint lights from the parking lot. The engraving was bold and dark.

_NED NICKERSON_

And below it, the dates of his birth and death, along with the simple inscription:

_BELOVED SON, LOYAL FRIEND_

It was a little surreal, and Frank didn't know what to say. He'd seen glimpses of Ned's Nancy tonight, but despite the welcome return of the girl he knew, he was having trouble reading her. "Are you okay?" he finally said softly.

Nancy removed her hand from the tombstone and used it to tuck her tangled hair behind her ear. "Yeah." she answered. Then she surprised him by taking his hand and lacing his fingers with hers.

"Frank!" Officer Reed called out.

They both looked over at him, then back at each other. "Hospital?" Nancy said with a rueful smile.

Frank squeezed her hand. "Yeah."

Together, they left Ned's grave and walked back to where Officer Reed and his partner were waiting for them. Frank held the door of the squad car open for Nancy before sliding in beside her. Reed's partner was driving, and he turned off the flashing lights before turning out of the church parking lot and down the hill. Reed sat in the passenger seat going over his notes. Of course, Frank and Nancy, and probably Joe, would still have to go down to the station later to make official statements, as would Jill... if she survived.

"Nancy," Reed said, turning back to look at her. "You said that one of the guns in evidence belonged to you, didn't you? You brought it to the church tonight?"

"I did." Nancy said quietly.

Reed paused for a long moment. "Then, when Dawley attacked you... why didn't you use it?" he asked.

Nancy rested her head against Frank's shoulder.

"I never loaded it." she said.


	19. Cuts and Scrapes

A/N: Hey guys, sorry I've been gone so long; I've been traveling with my family. Plus, no cliffhanger last time, so I figured you'd survive lol. Thank you to all of my reviewers last chapter (the most I've gotten for any chapter yet, so really, THANK YOU.) and to hardydrew222, who PMed me to remind me that y'all were still here waiting for an update! ;) Enjoy.

* * *

Joe jumped out of the uncomfortable plastic chair when he spotted Nancy coming through the doorway of the hospital waiting area. He was incredibly happy to see her, but his heart sank when he saw that she was alone. "Frank?" he asked fearfully, pulling her into a hug.

"He's fine." Nancy assured him as they separated. "Banged up, but alive."

Joe was visibly relieved. "Where-?"

"He got knocked unconscious a couple of times today, so I told the doctor to check him out first." Nancy explained.

Joe nodded, grinning. "Good call. Although I'm surprised they didn't make you go first... you're just _covered_ in blood, did you know?" He somehow managed to sound concerned and teasing at the same time, but Nancy knew he was just giddy with relief that Frank was safe.

"It's mostly Tommy's." she said, glancing down at the blood spattered all over her shirt and arms. "I broke his nose and he bled everywhere. And some of it's Jill's." She reached out and touched his arm. "How is she, Joe?"

He sobered up at the mention of Jill. "It's not good, Nance. She lost a ton of blood; she never even regained consciousness since you saw her. And she's been in surgery for more than an hour. They won't give me any updates on how she's doing... I think they might suspect that _I'm_ the one who beat her."

Nancy bit her lip. "Maybe they'll talk to me." She approached the nurse at the reception desk. "Excuse me? A girl named Jill was brought in here with a gunshot wound about an hour and a half ago. I was wondering if you could tell me how she is."

The nurse looked up at her blankly. "Are you a family member?"

"No," Nancy admitted. "But she has no family in the area. I'm her closest friend. Isn't there any way you can make an exception?"

The nurse frowned. "There were complications with the surgery. The poor girl was already in pretty bad shape, even before all the blood loss." Nancy noticed the woman eying Joe distrustfully, but didn't have the energy or inclination to correct her mistaken impression. "Of course, surgeries of this type—especially when you're dealing with wounds to the vital organs—can take hours. That doesn't necessarily mean that the surgery isn't going well. I'm afraid that's all I can tell you." She looked at Nancy sympathetically. "Has Jill's family been notified?"

_'Notified_,' Nancy thought dismally. _Not 'contacted.' She makes it sound like Jill is already dead._ "I don't think so." she said. "As I said, Jill isn't very close to her family, but I'll see if I can find their contact information and call them."

"I think that would be best." the nurse said softly.

Nancy nodded, going back to Joe. "You don't happen to have the number for Jill's parents...?" she asked reluctantly. "That nurse doesn't seem very optimistic about her prospects..."

Joe shook his head. "I don't have it. I think Frank called them from the office. I'll ask Dad to get it for us. I've got to call him anyway to let him know that Frank's okay."

Nancy gasped, her hand flying to her forehead. "We forgot to call your dad! We were supposed to call when we got here!"

"I did." Joe said. "I called him from the airport while you were getting your luggage."

"Oh."

Joe smiled. "Relax, Nan. You've had a long night. Let me worry about the details." When she looked at him skeptically, he put a comforting arm around her shoulders and eased her down into a chair. "...I'm sorry about Jill, Nan. We did everything we could. Now all that's left to do is wait."

"Wait for what?" Frank asked, entering the lounge.

"News on Jill." Joe said, grinning despite himself at the sight of his brother. "Man, Frank. You don't know how good it is to see you."

"Yes I do." Frank disagreed, putting his hands on Joe's shoulders. The fears he'd had earlier when Dawley was about to kill him—fears of abandoning Joe—were still fresh and raw in his mind. It was all he had to say. Joe understood; he always did.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Couple of cracked ribs." Frank shrugged. "They gave me something for the pain. I'll be fine, I just have to be careful. Now what's this about Jill?"

"Still in surgery." Nancy said dully. "They're not optimistic."

Slowly and cautiously, Frank sank down in a chair across from her, rubbing his hands together anxiously. He didn't say anything about Jill, instead saying, "The doctor is going to want to look at you in a minute, Nan."

"And then the two of you can head home and get some sleep." Joe finished.

Nancy didn't argue the implication that she would be heading back to her father's house. Somehow, after the events of tonight, seeing her father wasn't something she was dreading anymore. She did, however, see one problem with the plan. "Um... I left the rental car parked at the church." she admitted.

Joe shook his head. "So you mean we're stranded here?"

"Sorry." Nancy said. "I wasn't really in any shape to drive... I guess we'll have to go get it tomorrow."

"You're forgiven," Joe said, "as long as I get to drive the mustang."

Nancy cringed. "I don't think so."

"What? Don't you trust me?" Joe protested.

"With my life? Of course." Nancy said wryly. "But with my _car_...?"

"Oh, like your driving record is any different than mine..." Joe snorted.

Frank nearly smiled as he watched the two of them banter; they certainly all deserved a little levity after the night they'd had. But the uncertainty of Jill's condition weighed on him like a block of cement. She'd been a nice girl in a bad situation, and she'd risked everything to help him escape, even though she must have been terrified. She didn't deserve to go out like this, to have been beaten by someone as low and as cowardly as Tom Dawley.

Nancy was summoned by a nurse and Joe went into a quiet corridor to call their parents. Frank noticed that Joe was hovering around as he talked, never quite letting him out of sight, but he was too exhausted to reassure his brother further. Besides, knowing that Joe was watching him gave him a little piece of mind after the terrifying events of the past few hours; he felt like he could finally let his guard down and relax... not that the painkillers he'd been given would allow him to do anything else. He slumped down in his seat, trying his best not to jar his painful ribs, tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

* * *

By the time Nancy was released—after being treated for minor shock and having her scrapes and cuts cleaned and bandaged—Joe was done talking to his parents and was sitting next to Frank, who appeared to be just on the edge of consciousness. Nancy smiled softly, watching him open his eyes only to have them slowly drift closed without his consent... it would be adorable if she could ignore the bruises and split lip which still made her blood boil, even though their ordeal was through.

"I'm all set." she informed Joe. "I'll call a cab to take you two back to my house. I want to be here when they finish with Jill."

"...Stay... Jill..." Frank mumbled.

Joe chuckled quietly. "Don't think so, big brother. Not tonight." he said, patting Frank's leg. He stood to talk to Nancy. "I asked Dad to call Jill's parents, but he hasn't been able to reach them yet. I'll stay with her though, Nance. I don't mind, really. And the two of you need to go get some sleep. You look like hell."

"Oh, Joe, you always did know how to make a girl feel special..." Nancy deadpanned. Frank's eyes were closed, but he let out a soft snort at that, causing both Joe and Nancy to grin.

"Don't worry about calling a cab, either." Joe continued. "I already called for a ride while you were in with the doctor. She should be here any minute."

Nancy's brows furrowed. "What?"

Joe's eyes lit up at the sight of something behind her, and Nancy spun around to see Bess Marvin in the doorway, looking as cute and put-together as ever, even though it was the middle of the might. Nancy wouldn't expect anything less from her old friend.

"Bess!"

Bess rushed over and pulled her into a hug, and Nancy couldn't help the emotion that flooded through her. Bess had been one of her best friends since before she could remember, and they'd never been apart for so long before; they'd certainly never been so far emotionally removed from each other. It wasn't until Bess was standing in front of her that she realized how much she'd missed her.

"Nancy!" Bess exclaimed. "You're back! Are you all right?"

"Yes." Nancy said. "It's so good to see you."

"You too, I can't believe you're back!" Bess said. "I missed you so much!" she pulled back then and greeted the Hardys. "Frank, thank goodness you're okay!"

Frank said nothing, but smiled at her weakly. _Painkillers_, Nancy mouthed, and Bess nodded her understanding.

She turned to Joe, and they wore matching smirks as they greeted each other with a hug. "Joe."

"Always a pleasure." Joe teased.

"Uh-huh, especially when you need me for something." Bess sighed dramatically. "I'm well on my way to being the official chauffeur of the Hardys and Drews."

Nancy smiled at her friend apologetically. "I'm sorry to get you out of bed so late at night, Bess. I had no idea Joe was going to call you."

Bess looped her arm through Nancy's. "I don't mind a bit, Nan. I was only teasing." She squeezed Nancy's hand and leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Besides, do you know how many dreams I've had that start with me getting a phone call from Joe Hardy at two in the morning?" Then she frowned. "Of course, they don't usually end up in a hospital... if you know what I mean."

"Ugh, please..." Nancy laughed, wrinkling her nose. Bess, like Joe, was an eternal flirt, and though the relationship between them had never been serious, they could easily play off each other forever. "I _always_ know what you mean."

It was amazing, she thought, how easy it was to be around Bess. She knew that Bess would want to talk about Ned, and would probably eventually yell at her for the stunt she'd pulled in running away. But that was the wonderful thing about best friends: there was never any awkwardness.

She turned to Joe. "Are you sure you don't mind...?"

Joe waved her off. "I'll be fine. Go get some sleep, I mean it. I'll call you if anything happens." He winked at Bess. "And I'll catch up with _you_ later." he promised.

Bess grinned, then looked worriedly at Frank. "Is he going to be okay?"

"'m fine." Frank protested, stumbling slightly as he tried to get up. With a little help from Joe, the girls managed to get him outside, tucked safely into the backseat of Bess's car. Nancy slipped into the passenger seat, and there was companionable silence between them as they began the familiar journey back to River Heights.

Nancy watched as Bess glanced back at Frank's sleeping form in the rearview mirror, knowing at once what she was going to say when she finally spoke.

"Did you find the ringleader?" Bess asked.

"I did." Nancy sighed. Knowing she owed her friend some sort of explanation, she gave Bess an overview of the situation, starting with leaving River Heights and culminating with what had happened in the graveyard.

"But when you found Tom, you didn't kill him..." Bess said softly. "You didn't even load the gun. Why?"

Nancy stared blankly at the dark road ahead. It was a question she didn't truly know the answer to herself. "Because... I guess because that's not who I am. I'm better than him." It wasn't a particularly eloquent or coherent answer, but it was all she could give. "Killing him wouldn't make things any better. It wouldn't be justice." She thought back to what Joe had told her, about wanting justice for Iola's killer. Ned's murderer would have that, even if Iola's did not.

"Ned wouldn't have wanted you to become a killer in his name." Bess said finally. "He was better than that too."

Nancy took a deep, shaky breath. "I know he was." It was strange to talk about Ned after trying for so long to avoid the topic. Especially with Bess, who'd actually known him well.

"He was with you, even though he knew the risks, because he loved you, Nan. When you love someone, you take risks for them. What happened to him was never your fault."

"I know." Nancy said in a hollow voice. Admitting it hurt, but it felt good too

"You've done all you can for him, now." Bess said, pulling the car to a stop by the Drews' mailbox. "You don't have to feel guilty anymore."

Nancy didn't move to get out of the car. Instead, she stared down at her hands. "I know." she whispered. "But I miss him."

"Oh, honey..." Bess put the car into park, undid her seat belt, and slid over to put her arms around Nancy. "You're supposed to miss him... that's allowed."

Nancy leaned into her for a moment, taking deep, steadying breaths. "Thank you, Bess." she said, knowing Bess would understand that she didn't just mean for the ride.

Bess nodded, swiping quickly at her suspiciously misty eyes. "Anytime, Nancy. You know that." she said. "Do you need help getting him inside?"

Nancy looked back at Frank, who was blinking owlishly, woken by the change in the car's movement. "We'll manage." she told Bess, before getting out of the car and helping Frank out as well. He was moving stiffly, and she held his elbow gently as she guided him up the path to the front door. Bess waited until they made it to the doorstep before driving away.

Nancy tried the doorknob, but, as she'd expected, it was locked.

"In the light?" Frank asked, and Nancy looked at him, surprised.

"I can't believe you remember that." she remarked, reaching up and into the glass cover of the porch light and coming out with a key. The Hardys hadn't been in River Heights in years, and Nancy couldn't even remember the last time she'd used the spare key in front of them.

"I remember everything about you." Frank mumbled with a half-smile, and Nancy felt her face turn warm.

She turned the key in the lock and let them both into the darkened hallway. For some reason, sneaking into her house in the middle of the night felt even more natural than knocking on the door would have. Her father and Hannah were asleep, of course, but she could feel their presence in the house.

Behind her, Frank stumbled slightly on the mat in the doorway, reminding her that there would be time later to appreciate the feeling of homecoming, when they weren't quite so achy and exhausted. "Let's get you upstairs." she whispered to him.

"Upstairs?" Frank asked with a frown.

"You should take my room." Nancy explained. "I'll sleep down here on the couch."

Frank stopped walking abruptly. "No way. I'll take the couch."

Nancy rolled her eyes. Leave it to Frank to insist on being chivalrous after being kidnapped, beaten, blown up, knocked out, and drugged with painkillers. "Please sleep in the bed. For me?"

Frank placed a hand on his ribs and grimaced. "I don't think I can make it up the stairs anyway."

She didn't know whether he was lying or not, but she decided to let him win, this time. "All right, Hardy. If you insist." She led him into the living room, stopping on the way to grab a pillow and blanket out of the linen closet for him. He looked pleased as she laid them on the living room couch and she suspected that he probably could have made it up the stairs after all. "Do you need anything else? Water? Something to eat? I'm sure I can find you a change of clothes..."

He shook his head. "I'm fine." he mumbled. "Just want to sleep."

"Okay." Nancy said softly. "Well... Good night. Let me know if you need anything." She paused in the doorway. Even though she was dead tired, something inside her didn't want to leave him.

"Nan?" Frank whispered.

She spun around quickly. "Yes?"

The room was dark except for the dim light filtering in from the outside streetlamps, erasing the dark bruises on his handsome face and replacing them with simple shadows. He rubbed the back of his neck in a familiar nervous motion and winced as it pulled on his ribs. "Um... nothing." he said. "Good night."

Nancy smiled at him softly. "Good night, Frank." She turned around as he sat slowly, gingerly, on the couch. Then, biting her lip, she turned around to face him again. "Do you need help?"

"No." Frank denied, bracing his ribs with one hand as he endeavored to lie down.

Sometimes, Frank Hardy could be as stubborn as she was, Nancy reflected. She changed her tack. "Let me help you." she said. She crossed the room and knelt at his feet, untying one of his sneakers and slipping it gently off of his foot.

"I'm fine." he said, huskiness seeping into his voice as he looked down at her. "Just a little sore."

She removed his other shoe in the same manner. "I know. Do you think you can lie back?"

Frank grimaced. "Hurts." he confessed.

Pursing her lips in concentration, Nancy gently helped him swing his legs up onto the sofa. Then she helped him ease his shoulders down, propping them up with the pillow. "Is that okay?"

"It's okay." he murmured.

She picked up the blanket still draped over the back of the couch and shook it out, spreading it over his body. She smoothed the wrinkles out of it, tucking it under his feet and behind his legs. The rush of tenderness she felt, caring for him like this, shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. She had tried so hard not to have these feelings for Frank when Ned was alive, and she'd tried even harder once Ned was dead, but it was no use. She'd loved Ned. But these feelings she'd always harbored for Frank were no fleeting crush, either. There was no point in denying it, not after how she'd felt when she'd nearly lost him today.

"Frank..." she whispered. His eyelashes fluttered slightly, but his eyes didn't open. Gently, she crouched down to press a kiss to his hairline before slipping away and heading upstairs. Lying in her own room, under her own roof, she tossed and turned until sleep finally claimed her.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter: Nancy finally reunites with Hannah and her father, and we find out what happens to Jill! Stay tuned and don't forget to review!


	20. Homecoming

A/N: Thank you to all of my reviewers. You guys really make my day. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, it's a lot of reaction stuff... but it is what it is. To any of my readers who are also writers, tell me this: does anyone else get so excited to write the exciting parts of the story that they drag their feet on the in-between parts? (This is why I prefer writing short stories!)

* * *

Nancy awoke early to sunlight streaming through her window. She was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep, but it was nearly eight, and it wouldn't be fair to Joe to leave him sitting in the hospital alone all day. Additionally, she'd fallen into bed without washing up last night, and now that she was more awake, she was conscious of the gritty layers of sweat, dried blood, and graveyard dirt ground into her skin and hair. Reluctantly, she dragged herself out of bed, hoping that a much-needed shower would revive her more fully.

It felt like her house was exactly as she'd left it, she mused as she collected fresh clothes and a towel. Logically, she knew she shouldn't have expected it to change; it had only been three months, after all... but she had, and it hadn't.

She showered and changed quickly before heading downstairs. As she descended the stairs, she smelled the delicious aromas coming from the kitchen—coffee, bacon, eggs... she was suddenly aware that it had been entirely too long since she'd eaten. Still, she paused in the kitchen doorway.

Hannah Gruen had been the Drews' housekeeper since Nancy's mother had died. She had long ceased to be merely household help, however, instead becoming part of the family, taking care of Nancy and Carson when they became engrossed—as both father and daughter had the tendency to do—in their various respective cases. Nancy had always looked upon her as a sort of mother figure.

Now, she hovered in the doorway, watching the older woman bustle around the kitchen preparing breakfast. There was a definite spring in Hannah's step. Nancy suspected she knew the reason, and it made her heart swell with affection. "Good morning, Hannah." she said quietly.

Hannah turned away from the hot pan she was tending and beamed at Nancy. "Nancy!" She dropped the spatula she was holding and embraced the new arrival, rocking her from side to side. "Oh, my girl! It's so good to see you!" She stepped back, looking at Nancy with a critical eye. "Have you been eating? You haven't, have you? You must have lost thirty pounds!"

Nancy laughed despite herself. "I have not!" she denied. Hannah always thought she looked too skinny... although in this particular case, there might have been a grain of truth to her words. She might not have lost thirty pounds, but she certainly hadn't been taking the best care of herself since she'd gone away. Suddenly she felt a rush of guilt for causing Hannah to worry. "I missed you, Hannah."

"I missed you, too, honey." Hannah replied, placing her hand briefly on the side of Nancy's face. "But thank god you're back." Behind her, the bacon started to simmer and pop in the pan and she glanced back at the stovetop with a startled look. "Oh, drat. Hang on." Quickly, she removed the pan from the heat and used a dish towel to wave away the wisps of smoke that lingered over the stove. Hannah had never set off the fire alarm with her cooking, but she was always worried that she _would_. "Sit down, Nancy." she urged. "Breakfast is ready."

"Only if you'll eat with me." Nancy said, taking two mugs out of the cabinet and filling them with coffee. She looked around at the preparations Hannah had already made—much too much food for one person to eat by herself. "You don't seem too surprised to see me, Hannah..."

Hannah collected the toast out of the toaster and set it on the table with the jelly. "Well, I had a bit of a shock when I came downstairs to find Frank Hardy asleep in the living room... poor boy. I barely recognized him!" she shook her head. "On one hand, I'd like to ask you what happened to him, but I'm afraid if you told me it would break my heart." Though Hannah was especially fond of Joe because of his lighthearted teasing and his very vocal appreciation for her cooking, Nancy knew that she had always been impressed by Frank's earnestness and maturity as well. "I thought, if Frank was here, your friend Jill might have come back as well," Hannah continued, "So I peeped into your room and found you instead! I thought you'd sleep longer, you looked so tired, but then I heard the shower running, so I started breakfast."

"It looks delicious, as always." Nancy said, sliding down into her usual chair as Hannah presented her with a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs. Hannah sat down to eat with her and began to fill her in on the latest neighborhood news, while Nancy listened and asked questions. Neither woman made any mention of Ned, Nancy's absence, or what had happened to her while she was gone.

Finishing her breakfast, Nancy went to check on Frank in the living room. As she'd expected, he was still fast asleep, and she couldn't blame him. After what he'd been through, she wouldn't be surprised if he slept for a week. His split lip had begun to scab over already, but the bruises on his face had darkened even further overnight to deep purples and grays, and she suspected his arms and chest would look much the same. It was easy to see why Hannah had been disturbed by his appearance.

For Nancy, however, the sight of him only served to remind her of the revelations she'd had last night. She wished that she had the time and energy to think through her relationship with Frank, to really figure out her feelings and what she wanted to do about them, but time was a luxury she didn't have at the moment. Instead, she contented herself with drawing the blanket back up around his shoulders from where it had slipped down during the night. Then she ducked back into the kitchen for a glass of water, which she left on the end table beside him along with two of the pills the doctor had given him last night. He would definitely need them later.

She went back upstairs to collect her keys and cell phone. Hannah looked dismayed to see Nancy heading for the door.

"You're leaving again? But you just got here... you haven't even seen your father yet."

"Just for a little while." Nancy said. "I need to go back to the hospital and see how Jill is doing. And I need to pick up Joe, he's been there all night, he must be exhausted." She reached over to give Hannah another hug. "I want to let Dad sleep in. It's the weekend, and I know he was up late last night, since I'm the one who woke him!"

Hannah looked somewhat mollified. "So you're coming back later?"

"I promise." Nancy said. "Tell you what, I'll let you keep Frank as collateral." she joked.

"Well, I know you'll come back for _him_..." Hannah teased, and even though it had been Nancy who made the joke, she was the one who ended up blushing.

It felt great to be back behind the wheel of her blue mustang convertible, she mused as she drove towards the hospital. The car was as sturdy as it was stylish, having seen her through cases, chases, and road trips alike. No matter how many slashed tires, smashed headlights, and broken windows it accumulated—and, being Nancy's car, it had had quite a few—with a little work it somehow always managed to make it out of her scrapes good as new. She was almost disappointed when she pulled into the hospital parking lot; she'd forgotten how much she enjoyed driving her own car.

Her good mood faded as she walked through the hospital's automatic doors, replaced by a nervous apprehension. Joe hadn't called her during the night with any news, good or bad, but there had to be something, didn't there? Hours had passed; surely Jill's surgery was finished by now.

She walked into the waiting room where she had left Joe last night and spotted him immediately. He was slouched in a chair in the corner, his head leaning back against the wall at an angle that made her cringe. Waking him would be an act of mercy, she decided as she shook his shoulder gently. "Hey, Joe."

Joe blinked tiredly, but she could tell by how quickly he found his bearings that he hadn't been sleeping deeply. "Morning, Nan. Is it morning?" he checked his watch. "Wow. You're here earlier than I thought you would be."

"Jill?" she asked anxiously.

Joe nodded, then winced and cracked his neck. "Her surgery finished around five. The nurse let me see her for a minute as they took her into recovery, but she didn't wake up, and I didn't stay long. I didn't want her to freak out, waking up in a hospital with a strange guy. Anyway, they must think she's stable, because they told me I'd have to wait for visiting hours to see her again."

Nancy's muscles relaxed as a tension she hadn't even been aware of ebbed out of her. "Thank god. How'd she look?"

"Honestly?" Joe said cautiously. "It was hard to tell. I mean, you saw the way she looked when we pulled her out of the fire. I... I wasn't even sure she was going to make it to the hospital. She's a hell of a fighter, Nance. She's already pulled through the worst."

Nancy nodded. It was odd; before the events of the past week she never would have classified Jill as a fighter. As a victim, yes. As a meek, passive person, definitely. Sometimes it took a crisis situation to bring out a person's inner strength, and over the past few days, Jill had demonstrated that she had that in spades.

"Visiting hours started a few minutes ago." Joe said softly, pulling her out of her thoughts. He walked her to Jill's room, but hung back at the door, letting her go in alone.

It was not a private room, but there was a privacy curtain drawn between Jill's bed and that of her roommate. Slowly, Nancy made her way to Jill's bedside and sat down.

Jill looked tiny in the bed, propped up against the huge white pillows. She was wearing a hospital gown, and her dark hair had been swept into a ponytail at the base of her neck, leaving her bruised face unobscured. Her broken arm lay at an awkward angle to her body so as not to touch her wounded side. Nancy could see that her cast had been cleaned—it was no longer covered in blood and dirt, although it was singed gray in one or two places.

"Hey, Jilly." she whispered almost noiselessly. "It's Rebecca. Well, Nancy." She placed her hand over Jill's cast. "I just wanted to let you know that it's over. Tommy's going to jail, and he's never going to be able to hurt you again." She sat back in the chair, not knowing what else to say, not really wanting to disturb the girl's rest.

Jill slept on in silence for a few more minutes, but just as Nancy got up to leave, her eyes fluttered open. "Nancy?" she murmured hoarsely, looking around fearfully.

"Jill!" Nancy fell back into the chair. "You're awake! You're safe now, okay? Everything's going to be okay. How do you feel?"

"Terrible. But alive." Jill smiled weakly, calming down and allowing Nancy to help her take a drink of water. It was a couple of minutes before she was able to talk again. "I'm glad you're okay." she rasped. She paused then, looking uneasy. "...Tommy?"

"He was arrested last night." Nancy said.

"And... and Frank?" Jill asked quietly.

"He's going to be fine." Nancy confirmed.

Jill's face broke into a relieved smile. "Really? I thought we were both done for. When Tommy kidnapped us... and then they were beating Frank... Tommy had some crazy idea that I was cheating on him with Frank." She shook her head. "I felt so bad, I barely knew him and I thought I was going to get him killed. He was... he was really brave about the whole thing. Braver than I was. The last thing I remember was him trying to stay and defend me while Tommy's thugs were shoving him into a car."

Nancy pursed her lips. "You mean you don't remember being shot?" she asked. "Or the fire?"

"No..." Jill said, a lost look crossing her face. "Wait... I was shot? That... explains a few things." She used her good hand to gently explore the bandages wrapped around her torso, hissing in a sharp breath when she pressed against the painful area.

"Sounds like I'm just in time to give you the next round of painkillers." said the nurse who walked into the room. She quickly checked Jill over, then injected two syringes into Jill's IV line—one for the pain and one to prevent infection. She warned that the drugs would make Jill very tired, and that she should really be sleeping anyway, after the trauma her body had had.

Nancy took the hint and stood to leave, promising Jill, who was fast slipping into a doze, that she would visit again later. Joe met her in the hallway. "How is she?"

"I think she's going to be all right." Nancy said. "She seemed... better than she has any right to be, actually." Joe yawned, and she noticed that he was holding a paper cup half filled with black coffee. "You need to get some real sleep. Do you want to pick up the rental car now, or should we go straight back to my house?"

Joe shrugged. "I'm tired, but I'm okay to drive. Let's pick up the car. All of my stuff is in it, anyway."

"Good point." Nancy said. "Then we can go right now... but I have to make a stop at the gift shop first."

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, the blue mustang pulled up next to the rental car in the parking lot of St. Peter's. There were significantly more cars in the lot than there had been last night—apparently, there was a Saturday morning service going on. The back part of the lot, where Tommy's car had blown up, was still cordoned off with yellow tape.

Nancy tossed her car key to Joe as she got out.

"What's this for?" he asked.

"If you don't know what a key is for, I _definitely_ don't want you driving my car." Nancy said, rolling her eyes good naturedly as she leaned into the backseat to retrieve the box she'd gotten in the gift shop. Then she unlocked the rental car and transferred Joe's duffel into the mustang.

"Ha ha." Joe said. "I thought you didn't trust me to drive your car."

Nancy shrugged. "I changed my mind. You kind of deserve it, after everything you've done for me lately. It's the least I can do."

Joe's expression softened. "I don't mind driving the rental, Nance. Really."

"Neither do I." she said honestly. The two friends shared a look before Nancy changed the subject. "Anyway, there's something I've gotta do here. It shouldn't take long. Do you think you can find your way back to my house from here?"

"I think so." Joe said, sliding into the driver seat of the mustang. He leaned forward and patted the dash fondly. "And if I can't, we'll sure have fun getting lost, won't we, baby?"

Nancy rolled her eyes again, grinning at his antics. "You do that. Just bring her back in one piece?"

"Oh ye of little faith..." Joe teased. He sobered up quickly, eyes sliding toward the graveyard and then back to Nancy. "You sure you don't want me to wait? I can stay with you." he offered.

Nancy shook her head. "Thanks, but I'd rather do it alone. Go on ahead. Hannah made breakfast."

Joe needed no further convincing to buckle up and pull out of the lot. Nancy watched him go for a moment before turning back to the cemetery. It was turning into a lovely day, warm and sunny, with just a slight breeze to keep things cool. The rich tones of the pipe organ echoed from the church. She breathed in the fresh air as she took her time ambling towards the graveyard.

Skirting around the police tape, Nancy wended her way between the gravestones. She spotted a familiar statue shaped like an angel, paused, and looked around. Finally she saw what she was looking for: the headstone that had sheltered her the night before.

She crossed the gravel path to kneel in front of it. Then she opened her box, drawing out a blue and white ceramic vase. She placed it at the foot of the stone, just where she'd gotten the one that she'd broken over Tommy's head. The dried flowers she'd dumped from it were still lying scattered around, and she picked up the best few and tucked them into the new vase.

Satisfied, she sat back on her heels, surveying the stone for a moment before standing and brushing the dirt off of her knees. Her eyes wandered from her handiwork, straying towards the stone Joe probably thought she'd stayed to visit, the one she'd stood at last night, trying to make her peace with the world.

While capturing Tom Dawley had been her goal since she'd stood on this very path on the day of Ned's funeral, actually achieving that goal had left her feeling... lost. Another case had been closed, but this time, there was nothing behind it. No more cases to solve, no more Ned, waiting for her at home. In a way, moving forward from this point was more difficult than the decision to run away in the first place... at least then, she knew that she was running towards justice for Ned's killer.

What was she running towards now?

She went back to the car without stopping at Ned's grave.

* * *

If she went home, she would only fall asleep, Nancy reasoned, and she was too restless to do that. Propelled by her own confusion, she invented errands for herself to do—stopping at the coffee shop, at her bank, at the gas station. She spent over an hour at the River Heights police station talking to Chief McGinnis about the events of the night previous. Eventually, they let her go, advising her to head home and get some rest. Instead, she found herself back at the hospital.

Lost in thought, she turned into Jill's corridor and nearly bowled over a janitor pushing a dust mop. She apologized, so distracted that she missed seeing the tall, dark-haired man exiting Jill's hospital room.

"Nancy."

She looked over to see Carson Drew standing in front of her.

With no thought, no hesitation, she threw herself into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. When he finally let her go, he cupped her face between his hands, asking, "Are you all right?"

Nancy nodded, and he pulled her into a second hug. It was a routine they had practiced many times, usually when Nancy had had a close brush with death on one of her cases. Carson had always treated her like an adult, trusting her to make her own decisions, and almost never scolded her for her dangerous actions. As she'd grown up and gotten herself embroiled in more and more risky situations, he'd sometimes wondered if treating her as an adult all her life was the right thing to do, but he could never deny that he was proud of the woman she had grown into.

For her part, Nancy found herself struggling with words. She was sorry that her flight had hurt and worried her father, but she couldn't bring herself to regret the end results of the chase. What could the wayward daughter really say to her father upon her return?

Somehow, the embrace conveyed everything they needed to say. After a minute or two, Carson rescued them both from their introspective silences. "You'll be sticking around for a bit, I hope?" he said, finally releasing her.

"Yes." Nancy said. She'd done a good deal of thinking on the topic of her return home, but she could tell him what she had decided later. She smiled at her father, really looking at him for the first time. He looked as distinguished as ever, wearing expensive tan slacks and a button up shirt, which, for him, was weekend casual (although for many it would be "Sunday best.") Upon closer inspection, though, she wondered if her absence hadn't taken its toll on him as well, if the hair at his temples wasn't a little grayer, the lines around his mouth a little more pronounced. Suddenly overwhelmed by guilt, she blurted, "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry."

Carson looked taken aback. "Frank told me what happened, sweetheart. I'm not happy about what happened, or the way you chose to handle it, but I'm still proud of you." He tucked her under his arm and guided her towards the wall, out of the way of the hospital staff that were bustling around. "All that matters now is that you're safe."

Nancy wondered if Frank had really told her father the whole story. She suspected it might have been edited for content; it was what she would have done in his situation. She kept her arm around her father as she asked, "What are you doing here?"

Carson smiled sadly. "Frank and I came down to visit Jill. I must admit, I haven't known her long, but she really impressed me the day she showed up on our doorstep. She's a smart girl, and she's got fire..." he squeezed his daughter's shoulders. "She reminds me a little of you, in that way. You know, Frank actually told me that she saved his life last night by slipping him a hairpin to open his handcuffs."

"What?" Nancy sucked in a breath of air. It had never occurred to her to ask how Frank had managed to pick the lock on his cuffs. A twinge of nausea passed through her as she realized that, if he hadn't managed to get out of the cuffs when he had, he would definitely have been killed in the explosion of Tommy's car. Suddenly she felt like she owed Jill a great debt of gratitude; she'd risked her own neck to save Frank's life, and in doing so she'd paid Nancy back a hundred fold for every cut she'd cleaned, every broken finger she'd set over the course of their acquaintance.

Along with the gratitude, she felt a disturbing, illogical,_ completely_ unwarranted pang of jealousy. There was a special sort of bond that formed between people who'd saved each others' lives, between people who'd been through hell and back together. She and Frank had had that bond, that trust, between them for years, and now he and Jill had it too. And Jill had certainly spoken of Frank in glowing terms that morning. Who wouldn't? Especially after the beating he'd taken trying to protect her!

Nancy shook the irrational thoughts out of her head. Frank wasn't in love with Jill, and after what she'd been through at Tommy's hands, Nancy suspected that Jill wouldn't enter into another serious relationship for a good long while.

And even if they were interested in each other—which they _weren't_—it was hardly Nancy's place to be upset about it. Pursuing a relationship with Frank herself would be a bad idea at this point, so soon after Ned, just as she was standing on the cusp of a major rehaul of her life. A terrible, _irresponsible_ idea.

Carson was staring at her expectantly, and it took her a moment to realize that she'd been completely ignoring him as he talked. "Sorry, Dad, I didn't mean to zone out." she apologized. "What did you say?"

Carson smiled at her indulgently, but his eyebrows were knitted with concern. "I said that Jill would probably like to see you. She's in there with Frank now. Unless you'd rather join me on my mission; she's starving but having trouble eating, so I told her I'd find something easy for her to try... maybe some jello or something."

"Okay." Nancy said vaguely, taking a step towards Jill's door. "I was here earlier, but we didn't really get to talk much..."

A nurse passed just in front of them and entered Jill's room, and when she opened the door Nancy caught a glimpse of Frank sitting stiffly by Jill's bedside, holding her hand. "My goodness, you two look like a matched set!" the nurse exclaimed when she saw the pair's bruises. Frank cracked a tired smile, and even Jill managed a pained laugh at the joke. The door fell closed before Nancy could hear any more.

"On second thought," she told her father, linking her arm with his and turning them both toward the cafeteria, "I think I'll go with you."


	21. Temptation

A/N: Thank you to Caranath, I'mapersonandyoucan'tstopme, Shenice, RealMcCoy16, Really Cinderella, hardydrew222, and SalvatoreForever for their reviews on the last chapter. I can't say enough how much I appreciate your taking the time to leave some feedback for lil' ol' me! :)

I think a few of you might have been waiting for _this_ one... Enjoy!

* * *

"Ready to go? We should leave in half an hour or so. You know there's always traffic near the airport." Joe said, coming into Carson's den. He and Frank had set up camp there during their stay at the Drews'.

"I'm ready." Frank nodded. "_You're _the one who's never packed on time, remember?" He bent over to lift his bag—slowly—and winced as he tried to lift it. Though his split lip had healed almost entirely, and the bruises were slowly fading to a mottled yellow-brown, his ribs still gave him trouble when he tried to bend.

"Ribs still getting you, eh, old man?" Joe asked sympathetically. He reached over and picked up Frank's bag. "No worries, I've got it."

Frank scowled at him. "What's this 'old man' stuff?" he complained. "I'm not sore because I'm old, I'm sore because I got kicked in the chest."

Joe held up his hands. "You're cranky like an old man." he pointed out.

Frank quashed another spurt of annoyance and sighed. "Sorry Joe. I guess I'm just... frustrated."

Joe perched himself on the arm of the couch that had been his bed for the past three nights. "Frustrated? With what? Solving an awesome case, cheating death at every turn, and putting a murdering gang boss behind bars? This is what we live for, bro."

Frank just shook his head.

Joe continued on. "Anyway, I've just got to say goodbye to Nancy, and then we can head out." He looked at Frank, and then his eyes lit up with sudden understanding. "Of course. This is about Nancy somehow."

Still, Frank said nothing, but Joe knew his brother well enough to know when he had hit the nail on the head.

"So spill." he urged. "What did she say when you guys talked about what happened in the graveyard?"

Carefully, Frank eased down onto the rolling chair behind Carson's desk. "Nothing." he said simply. "We didn't."

"You didn't talk about what happened to you?" Joe repeated incredulously. "You mean, nothing? She didn't say anything about how freaked out she was when you were kidnapped? You didn't tell her that you're hopelessly in love with her?"

Frank glared at his brother. "Of course I didn't. And no, she didn't." He sighed again. "I mean, right after it happened, that night, in the graveyard, she said some things. Like that she was sorry for asking me to stay away, and that she didn't want to lose me... I felt like we were really _connected_ for the first time since we found her in New York City, but... I don't know. Maybe it was just shock or something."

"That doesn't sound like Nan." Joe said, frowning. "She doesn't say things she doesn't mean. Especially not to you."

Frank shrugged. "Things are different now, Joe. I don't know what to say to her, and I don't think she knows what to say to me either. Since the day after the church, she's barely said two words to me. The only time we talked at all was when we were corroborating each others' stories for the police, and since then we just... haven't been alone together, for one reason or another. I'm visiting with Jill, or she's visiting with Jill, or she's talking to her father, or I'm drowsy from the pain meds... Sometimes I see her looking at me like there's something she wants to say, but when I try to get her to open up, nothing. And now we have to go home and who knows how long it will be before our paths cross again..." He pounded his fist gently on the desk. "I don't know what to do." He looked up at Joe. "You always seem to know what to say to get her to talk," he said, half-hopefully, half-resentfully.

"I have a gift with women." Joe said, shrugging one shoulder. At Frank's black look, he rolled his eyes. "For the last time, there is nothing between me and Nancy. We mostly just joke around, she's not exactly having share-time with me either. And you should have seen how pissed she got at me when she found out we didn't tell her you came to River Heights. Consider yourself lucky that by the time we found you she was so relieved you were alive she forgot to be mad at you for that."

"Yeah, I _feel_ lucky." Frank groaned.

"You need to talk to her." Joe advised.

There was a knock on the door and Nancy stuck her head in. "Did you get everything?"

"Yep." Joe leaped up off the arm of the couch. "All packed. We said goodbye to your dad and Hannah this morning. You're the last one left."

Nancy smiled at him sadly. "I wish you could stay longer." she said, pulling him in for a quick hug. Over his shoulder, her eyes met Frank's, and he stood carefully, grasping the desk for support.

"We do too." Joe was saying. "But Dad needs us back at the agency. Crime never sleeps, so we can't either. Or... however that expression goes." Nancy smirked, and he looked her straight in the eye. "And hey," he said. "If you need anything, let us know. I mean it."

Nancy broke the eye contact, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I'm not going to be doing detective work anymore, Joe." she said softly.

"I didn't just mean cases." Joe said. He reached over and gave her shoulder a light squeeze before picking up his bag and Frank's and heading for the door. "I'm gonna throw these in the car." he said. "We'll call you when we land to let you know we got home." He closed the door behind him, but not before shooting Frank a significant look over Nancy's shoulder.

With Joe gone, Nancy's focus fell on Frank, and he felt his heartbeat quicken just a little. It really was the first time they had been alone together since the nightmare had ended, since she'd taken off his shoes and tucked him under a blanket in the darkness of her father's living room. He swallowed hard, taking a step forward. "Nan..."

Her gaze dropped to the carpet. "Well... I guess this is goodbye. For now."

"For now." Frank agreed, his voice coming out a bit husky. "Nan, we never really got a chance to talk after what happened with Tommy."

She looked surprised, her gaze jumping back to his. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Um..." Frank's mind was flooded with thoughts and concerns he couldn't quite put into words. How was she dealing with what had happened? Did Tommy's arrest bring her the closure she needed? What had she meant when she said she was worried about losing _him_? "I..."

She smiled at him, and he blushed, and they were both laughing as she hugged him. "I don't really know what to say about these past few weeks either." she confessed quietly. "The way I behaved..."

Frank shook his head. "Don't apologize, Nan. What you went through, and survived? It's amazing." He took her hands. "You're amazing." He could hardly believe it as she caught her lower lip between her teeth and flushed pink.

"Frank... you're... I mean..." She closed her eyes and shook her head, and Frank actually felt disappointment as she abandoned the sentence for another train of thought. "I don't really know how to thank you, for, well, everything. You took care of me when I stopped taking care of myself. I tried to get you to leave, but you never took no for an answer. So... thank you."

The frustration he'd been feeling earlier came rushing back. "You don't have to thank me for doing that stuff, Nan. It's _you_. Leaving you wasn't an option."

"Until now." Nancy said lightly. She was joking, but her eyes were wide, searching Frank's face, as if there were any doubt of his sincerity.

His voice, when he spoke, came out low and serious. "Do you want me to stay?"

Her throat bobbed visibly as she swallowed. "You have to go back to Bayport." she reminded him after a long moment. "But I'll see you in a few days."

This was news to Frank. "What?"

She bit her lip again. "I'm going to stay here with Hannah and my dad for a few days, but, once Jill's out of the hospital, I want to go back to Bayport." When Frank said nothing, still trying to digest the information, she continued, "I already talked to Dad about it; he wasn't thrilled, but I think he understands why. I called Maxine and she said she could still use me when I get back. And I like my apartment. I've been thinking about getting a set of dishes." At Frank's frown, she quickly explained, "I've been using paper plates."

"You're... you're really moving to Bayport? Like, for the long term?" Frank said, still feeling a bit stunned.

Nancy looked hurt. "Do... do you not want me to?" She pulled her hands out of Frank's, turning red again, but this time, from humiliation. "Oh, god. I didn't even- I just thought-"

"Whoa," Frank said quickly, "I didn't say that! I'd love to have you in Bayport, Nancy. I really, really would." Once again, he found himself torn between his feelings for Nancy and the nagging worry that he wasn't what was best for her. "It's just that I thought you'd want to be here, spend more time with your father and Hannah, and Bess, and everyone. You just got home."

Nancy didn't look convinced. "If this is about Jill," she said slowly, "I told her she could come too, be my roommate while she gets back on her feet. It's not like I don't have the room."

Frank was utterly confused. "Jill? Why would it be about Jill?"

Nancy shrugged one shoulder and refused to look him in the eye. "Jill's a wonderful girl. And I know you two went through a lot together." she said. "If you... had feelings for her, I'd understand."

Now he understood what she was saying, but he was having a hard time believing that it was what she truly thought. Jill was attractive enough, and their mutual experiences meant they were well on their way to becoming friends, but he honestly couldn't see anything more developing between them, even if he weren't, as Joe put it,_ hopelessly in love_ with Nancy. "Come on, Nan, why are you saying this? You know I don't have feelings for Jill."

"I don't know why I'm saying it." she confessed, drawing closer to him, leaning in. He was vaguely aware that he was leaning in as well. "I just..."

Vulnerability had never been a trait he'd associated with Nancy Drew, never in the long time he'd known her. But he saw it now. She looked unsure, nervous.

It occurred to him that he might be wearing the same expression.

"I just want-"

Her words were cut off when their lips met.

Kissing Nancy was electric. It had been the scant few times he'd kissed her before, and it was now. Something sparked between them, stealing his breath and leaving him lightheaded with desire. Her hands ran over his shoulders to gently cup the back of his head. He gripped the desk he'd been leaning on just to avoid the temptation to reach for her...

...And pulled away.

He watched her eyes open, saw the questioning look she gave him, and knew he'd better talk fast. "Nan, I... you know I've had feelings for you for a long time. I've always been drawn to you, even when I tried not to be."

"I know." she said softly. "I was there too." She smiled, and it was difficult to _not_ hold her when she was looking so like herself, when she was standing so close, when he _knew_ she wanted him to.

"I still care about you, and I always will-" he continued.

She cut him off. "But?" she guessed hesitantly.

"But-" he said, and she looked chagrined, but not offended, which he took to be a good sign. "I think we might be taking this a little too fast. It's too soon, after..." he paused, not knowing whether it would be tactful to mention the name, but Nancy, as always, was right there with him.

"After Ned." she supplied flatly.

"I just don't want you to do anything you're going to regret." Frank said. Pulling away from Nancy was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but he wasn't the kind of guy who could take advantage of a girl who was still in mourning, whether she acknowledged it to herself or not. "I don't want to hurt you." he finished quietly.

She was silent for a minute, and he wondered if she was going to argue with him, to protest that she was fine, or that it wasn't his place to decide when she was ready. She took a step back, and he waited for her to stop being his Nancy and become the cold, defensive Nancy he'd met less than a month ago in that dark alley.

"You're right."

He raised his eyebrows. "I am?"

She smiled ruefully. "I care about you, too, Frank. So much. Losing Ned broke my heart, but when I saw that car blow up and I thought you were inside, it broke again." she took a deep breath. "I've been trying to find a way to tell you how I feel without thinking about Ned... but I don't know if I'm ready to not think about Ned just yet. I didn't want you to leave thinking I didn't care, though." she blushed. "I didn't mean to kiss you, but... wow."

Frank smiled. "Yeah, for me too." he said. God, she was beautiful. He easily could have kissed her again, but thought better of it. "I've had these feelings a long time, Nan... I don't think they're going to change. I'm not going to do anything you're not ready for."

"So you're okay with... taking this slow?" she asked.

"Of course."

"And you're okay with me coming back to Bayport?"

"More than okay." Frank said, "As long as it's what you want to do."

Nancy beamed.

There was a knock on the door. "Guys? I'm really, really happy for you, but Frank and I are seriously going to miss our plane if we don't leave now."

Frank and Nancy looked at each other. Frank checked his watch. _He's right,_ he mouthed.

Rolling her eyes, Nancy pulled open the door to reveal Joe standing on the other side, keys in hand.

"Sorry." he said.

"I can't believe you were listening to our conversation." Nancy said, a hint of a blush creeping up her neck.

Joe affected an unimpressed expression. "Yeah, a private detective, eavesdropping. Shocker." She punched him in the bicep for his sarcasm, which prompted him to continue, "Don't be embarrassed though, Nance, you've known me for years and I've never given you any reason to think I was nosy before..."

Their banter continued all the way out to the rental car, where, with a last goodbye, Joe slipped behind the wheel. Frank gave Nancy one final hug.

"For the record," she whispered in his ear, "Kissing you has never been something I've regretted."

Frank smiled into her hair. In the past, when he'd still been dating Callie and she'd still been dating Ned, he'd felt guilty about the kisses they'd shared... but honestly, he'd never regretted them either.

She pulled back, smiling brightly. "Safe flight."

Joe started the car and Frank sat down in his seat. "See you soon." he answered as he shut the door.

* * *

A/N: That wasn't the end. It wasn't! There's one more chapter, which I will happily provide for your viewing pleasure... after you review! ;)


	22. Epilogue

A/N: Well... looks like this is it. I'm sad, but also proud. I've got some ideas floating around for future stories, though, so don't think I won't be back!

Thank you to I'mapersonandyoucan'tstopme, Guest, Caranath (that Joe will mock Frank and Nancy is implied, though not explicitly stated ;P), ILoveMom (x2!), bhar (I'm glad to hear that a non Nancy-fan can enjoy the story too!), Shenice, Agent Striker, the. vulture, hardydrew222, Really Cinderella, Guest, TrixieNancy124, and George99 for your reviews! In fact, thank you to everyone who's left me a review of the course of the story. You're all fantastic!

And without further ado... enjoy!

* * *

_Six Months Later_

"Nancy? Do you think I should bring my red dress? Or the light blue one?" Jill called, poking her head out of her bedroom door.

In the kitchen, Nancy set down the knife she was using to slice vegetables. "The blue one's the one with the fluttery sleeves?"

"Yeah."

"That one." Nancy said. "The red one's too formal for a wine tour."

"Good point." Jill said, "Thanks!"

Nancy smiled to herself as she resumed making her salad. Sometimes she just had to sit back and marvel at the progress Jill had made in the past few months. Her rapid recovery from her gunshot wound had been miraculous enough, but since then she'd reconciled and reunited with her parents and testified against Tommy in court. She was like a completely different girl, the kind of girl she might have been if she'd never met Tommy.

Nancy had never been prouder of Jill than when she'd taken the stand last week to tell the world what sort of man Thomas Dawley really was. Being in the courtroom with Tommy, talking about all of the terrible things he'd done to her, dealing with reporters... it had taken a lot of courage for Jill, but she'd handled it all with dignity and quiet grace. They'd gone back to Chicago for the trial and stayed the week with her father and Hannah. It hadn't been until yesterday that the court released the verdict: guilty as charged on three counts of attempted murder, arson, kidnapping, assault, racketeering, and other various assorted charges. Though they hadn't been able to get him on Ned's murder, Nancy was able to content herself with the fact that Tom Dawley would be in jail for a long time.

Jill had burst into tears of joy and relief upon hearing the verdict, and she'd immediately begun planning a vacation of sorts to celebrate. Since she worked nine to five on weekdays as an administrative assistant at a nearby women-in-crisis shelter, she decided to take the weekend to stay with her parents upstate and visit a few of the nearby wineries in New York wine country. Regrettably, Nancy had volunteered to take extra weekend shifts at Maxine's, to make up for the time she'd taken off during the trial, so she couldn't join her.

There was a knock on the door and Callie Shaw stuck her head into the apartment. "Jillian Hendricks, are you ready to get our drink on?" she called.

"In a minute!" Jill called back from the bedroom.

Nancy smiled at the new arrival. "Come on in, Callie." Callie had met Jill the day she moved into the apartment and, to Nancy's surprise and bewilderment, the two had instantly hit it off. At first it had been awkward having Callie around so often, but over time both Callie and Nancy had gotten used to the situation, and even formed a tentative friendship of their own. Nancy could admit, if only to herself, that Callie was bright, spunky, and pragmatic; it wasn't difficult to understand what Frank had seen in her.

"Hey Nancy." Callie said, pulling a small rolling suitcase in behind her and perching on the couch. "You sure you don't want to come with us? It'll be fun..."

"I'd love to..." Nancy confessed. "But I have to work tomorrow. I'm glad you guys are getting to go, though. It's been a stressful week, what with the trial."

"Yeah..." Callie said sympathetically. "I can't even imagine..." She trailed off awkwardly and glanced around the room. After a minute she smiled. "Hey, you finally got Joe to fix the chain on your door!"

Nancy laughed. "I know. Don't get me started on what an ordeal _that_ was."

Jill finally appeared in the living room, her weekend bag slung over her shoulder. She was wearing a jean skirt and a pink ruffled top, and tugging her sandals onto her feet as she walked. "I'm ready!" she announced.

Nancy folded her arms. "You realize you have a six hour car ride ahead of you, right?"

"Five and a half." Jill corrected, smiling brightly. "You're not going to bring me down tonight, Nance. Besides, I prefer to think of it as a 'road trip.'" She looked to Callie, and Callie nodded her confirmation. "See? Road trip!"

It was good to see Jill happy after the week she'd had... after the _year_ she'd had, really. She looked as carefree as Nancy had ever seen her, and it warmed her heart. "Well, say hi to your parents for me." she said, hugging Jill goodbye.

"We will," Callie said as she maneuvered her suitcase back out the door. "And we'll have a glass of wine for you, too!"

"You'd better." Nancy nodded.

"And, hey, I know you have to work," Jill said, winking at Nancy. "But you try to have some fun this weekend too, okay? The nightmare is finally over!"

"I promise." Nancy said. "Now get out of here! Have a good road trip!" The door closed and she stood in the living room for a minute. A brief wave of melancholy washed over her as she listened to the sounds of Jill's and Callie's excited chatter dying away, but she shook it off before she could get mired down in it. It was a shame about missing the vacation, but in many ways, a nice, quiet weekend at home was just as good.

She finished preparing and eating her salad and she was just finishing with the dishes when the phone rang. She grabbed it and checked the screen before accepting the call. "Hey Dad, what's going on?"

"Not much, sweetheart. We had some reporters here earlier looking for quotes on the Dawley verdict, but they're gone now... I just wanted to see how you were holding up."

"I'm fine." Nancy told him. "Why wouldn't I be? He's actually going to pay for what he did to Jill, what he did to Frank-"

"What he did to _you_." Carson finished. "I know. I'm happy about that too... But I'm sorry the murder charge didn't stick, honey."

Nancy shrugged, although he obviously couldn't see her. "You know... Ned's death was an accident. Tommy told me that, and I-" she huffed a brief laugh, "I actually believe him."

Carson spoke in a wary tone. "Does that make things better? Or worse?"

"Better, I guess." Nancy answered. "I feel... okay about the verdict. I really do."

"I'm glad." Carson said warmly. "How did Frank and Joe take the news?"

"I haven't actually seen them in a few days." Nancy said. "They've been away on a case with their dad. I think they just got back to Bayport. Joe texted me just after they read the verdict though, to say congratulations."

"And Frank?"

"Nothing." Nancy said with a sigh. She could tell just by the tone of her father's voice what his next question would be.

"How are things going between you two?"

And there it was. She rolled her eyes. "Really, Dad? You sound like Bess."

"I'm just asking..." Carson said lightly. "I like to know what's going on in my only daughter's life, especially since she moved so far away and I don't get to see her that often..."

"You saw me last week!" Nancy sputtered, but she couldn't help grinning. As a lawyer in the courtroom, her father well knew how to approach a topic sneakily, but when dealing with his daughter, he'd often found more success with a shamelessly obvious guilt trip. She relented, just as she knew he'd expected. "Things are going fine between me and Frank. We're still just friends. Nothing's changed."

"All right." Carson said, "Believe me, I'm not trying to pressure you. As your father-"

"You'd be happiest if you knew I was safe at home with the door locked every night, instead of going out on _dates_ with _men_?" she guessed cheekily.

"Why, yes, in fact!" Carson teased. "Although, obviously, a convent would be the most preferable..."

"Hmm... a convent?" Nancy pretended to consider it. "Let me think about it and get back to you."

It was all well and good to joke with her father about the lack of forward progress with her relationship with Frank, but she couldn't deny that, more and more, she'd been thinking about trying to make that change.

She was in love with him, there was no doubt about that. And she knew he had feelings for her too. It was obvious in the way he acted around her, the way he talked to her, the way he looked at her. She knew he'd tried to turn down the emotional heat in order to give her time to mourn Ned properly. She knew he'd wait for her to be ready, patiently, as long as it took. And she loved him all the more for it.

The problem was that being ready wasn't exactly as simple as flipping a switch on or off. How could she tell when she'd gotten past Ned's death? How would she know when it was the right time to make a move with Frank?

It wasn't like she didn't want to. _God,_ did she want to. She was happy with his friendship, and glad to live in Bayport where she could see him several times a week... but she'd never been immune to his appeal, and she wasn't now. But she'd held back because she wanted him to know that when they finally did get together, when she finally did make that commitment to him, that she had no doubts about it. No reservations, no regrets, no strings attached. It wouldn't be fair to him to enter into a relationship when she wasn't completely over Ned...

Even if she did lie awake in bed some nights, thinking about the kiss they'd shared before he left River Heights, the kiss that had tested the limits of her resolve and turned her insides to jelly.

"And how is Jill doing?"

"Hmm, what?" Nancy started, returning her mind to the conversation at hand. "Oh, she's okay. More than okay. She was so relieved when she heard that Tommy was going to prison that she started crying. She just left, actually. She and Callie are taking a trip upstate to spend the weekend with her parents."

"Good." Carson said. "I think they're good people."

"Yeah," Nancy agreed. She vividly remembered the first time she had seen Jill's parents, rushing into the hospital late on the day of Jill's surgery and demanding the nurse take them to their daughter. It had been immediately obvious to Nancy where Jill got her looks. Her father was a rather short, balding man with a dark mustache and glasses obscuring his dark eyes. Her mother, while of average height, had Jill's petite bone structure and graceful features. They'd had plenty of issues to work through with Jill, but she admitted that, by the end of it all, she felt like she had her family back. "I'm really glad she feels comfortable enough to visit back home."

"I think all three of them just decided not to waste any more time they could be spending together." Carson said. "It's a good idea."

Nancy agreed, and they chatted about more inconsequential things for a while. Finally, Carson told her he was sure she was busy and that he would let her go.

Nancy laughed. "You sound like you think I have something better to do tonight."

"In for the night?" Carson asked.

"Yes... I don't have work early tomorrow, but I've got a double shift in the afternoon, so I might as well be rested. I might do some reading; I just started a book that's pretty good." she said.

"All right." Carson chuckled. "Well, have a good night, sweetheart. Hannah sends her love."

"Tell her I say the same." Nancy replied, before exchanging goodbyes and hanging up. She tossed her cell phone on the table and settled onto the couch, picking up the novel she'd started the night before. As she flipped it open, however, she found herself with a lack of focus on the story.

She glanced around the room, surveying the little apartment. It had been rather cold and uninviting during her first week here, but with a little work it had become downright cozy. Pictures hung on the walls, dishtowels hung in the kitchen, framed photos on the end tables... It had taken a while to make the place feel like home, but, with Jill's help, she'd done it.

Just having Jill here had been a huge help; she'd been ecstatic about the littlest things like shopping for curtains or going to job interviews. She even helped Nancy pick out their blue-and-brown patterned dishes. It was as if she was finally coming out of the quiet, sullen shell Tommy had forced her into. When Nancy sat here and looked around their apartment, it was hard not to feel content.

Snippets of her conversation with her father kept niggling at her, though... mostly the way she'd felt when he brought up Frank. It felt like she'd been in no-man's-land with Frank for a long time, and sometimes she wondered if, as her father said, they were wasting time they should be spending together...

* * *

The sound of a throat clearing broke Frank's concentration.

He looked up, startled, realizing for the first time that it had gotten late, that the office was now in darkness, and that his desk lamp was the only light in the room except for the outside streetlights filtering through the cracks in the blinds. His first thought was thank god Joe was on a date tonight, or Frank would definitely be subject to teasing about his "workaholism" and the need to find him a girlfriend so he would have somewhere better to be on a Friday night than the office.

"You'll ruin your eyes reading in the dark like that, Hardy."

His second thought was that this was just like one of those old film noir movies. Nancy Drew was standing in the doorway, leaning against the door frame and smirking at him fondly.

She must have known what he was thinking. "Late at night, the handsome detective sits alone in his dark office," she narrated in a low, slow voice, "When the mysterious woman appears in the doorway..." She pushed off the door frame, sauntering forward a few steps.

"The femme fatale." Frank supplied, leaning back in his chair, trying not to show just how attracted he was to her right now. She looked pretty, as always, in a dark-colored tank top and one of her much-favored pencil skirts, but it was the way she was teasing him that made his pulse speed up.

He watched her suppress a smile. "Right," she said, "The femme fatale." She stopped slinking forward, ruining the illusion, and walked normally the rest of the way to his desk. "The femme fatale..." she mused with a smile. "I kind of like that..."

Frank shook his head, shuffling some papers around on his desk. "It's not you."

"Oh no?" she raised an eyebrow at him, which he found to be completely adorable.

"Nah. That's more like the kind of woman Joe dates. He's probably out with one right now."

"He's out with _Vanessa_, and you know it." Nancy laughed. "And why can't I be the femme fatale? You don't think I'm beautiful and dangerous?"

"Oh, I think you're both." Frank said seriously. He hesitated before finishing, "Only... you're too good. Sorry, Nan, you're not corrupt enough."

"I'm not?" she looked like she wasn't sure whether to be pleased or insulted.

Frank's mind flashed back to another dark place: the back of a cop car on the way to the hospital, six months ago, and to Nancy, resting her head on his shoulder as she explained that she hadn't shot her attacker because she'd never loaded the gun. "Definitely not." he murmured, looking straight into her eyes.

She smiled as she realized it was a compliment. "Thanks." she said, before breaking eye contact.

"Hey, I never got the chance to say congratulations on the Dawley trial." Frank said.

She shrugged. "You were as much a part of it as I was. And yet, everyone wants to know how _I _feel about it." That had been the very question he was about to ask, and Nancy evidently saw it in his expression. "I'm _fine_." she said with a chuckle. "It's over with, he's going to prison, I'm happy. You?"

Frank nodded. "Me too."

Nancy glanced down at his desk. "So what are you working on?"

Even though it was dark, he could see the sparkle of curiosity in her eye. "Why, Nancy Drew... I thought you weren't interested in mysteries anymore?"

She blushed. "I like my job, but it's not particularly mentally stimulating." she said. She leaned against his desk and tucked her hair behind her ears with both hands. "I'm thinking of quitting."

"And doing what?" Frank asked, but she just shrugged.

In some ways, he was surprised. She'd seemed so resolved to stop her detective work, never wavering at all since the end of the Dawley case. But in others, it was no surprise at all. He often saw that glimmer of interest in her eyes when he and Joe discussed their cases in front of her. Despite her claims of being officially retired from detecting, she'd always be a detective.

"So spill, Hardy. What are you up to, that's got you working so late at night?" She picked up a stack of papers and leafed through them. "...List of pawn shops, list of antiques collectors, list of museums... You're looking for something."

For once, he avoided reminding her about client confidentiality. Even when they were young, he'd always trusted Nancy with the details of his cases... which was good, since he'd always had a hard time keeping secrets from her as well. "It's actually a pretty fun case." he said with a grin. "It reminds me of the stuff we used to get into when we were kids. The client is a woman whose grandfather died a few weeks ago, and his massive collection of ancient art was sold off to various dealers. The client swears there was an updated version of the will that would have provided her daughter with tuition to art school, but the new will was never filed, and she couldn't find it."

Her eyes were positively alight now. "A missing will? You're kidding." She looked at the stack of papers she still held. "So you think it was hidden in one of the pieces from his art collection, and you're trying to track them all down?"

"Close," Frank said. "I think it was hidden in a piece, a specific piece." He rifled through the file folder in front of him, pulled out a full-page photograph, and handed it to her. "This one."

"A puzzle box." Nancy breathed, staring at the photograph of the ornate wooden box. "It looks Japanese... it must be very old."

Frank nodded. He'd been just as enraptured by the beautiful puzzle box when he'd first seen it. "It was the granddaughter's favorite piece, and it was left to her in the will. He taught her how to open the box; apparently it was a game with them. But she never got a chance to look inside, because right after the bequeathment, the client's ex-husband broke into their apartment looking for money. He must have seen the box, figured it was valuable, and taken it to sell. Of course, he's on the run, so we can't just ask him where it went..."

"Hence, the lists of pawn shops and antiques collectors." Nancy finished, gesturing to the papers. "You've got to find out who he sold it to."

"Done." Frank said. "I traced it to an antiques store outside the city, but it had already been sold. It took a while to convince the store owner to give me his sales records, but, with a little leg work—which, incidentally, I'd just finished when you got here—" He slid a notepad towards her. On the top sheet were several names and addresses, one of which was circled. "I narrowed it down to one. A private collector of Japanese art who lives up in Northport."

"So you're going to plan an elaborate heist to sneak into his house and get the will?" Nancy teased.

Frank grinned. "That's plan B. Plan A is to call him in the morning, during normal business hours, and just ask if he'll let us take a look at the box."

Nancy rolled her eyes, "Well that sounds like less fun."

"Tell you what, if we need someone to rappel into his house from the ceiling I'll call you." Frank promised. "Although you'll probably have to fight Joe for the job."

Nancy laughed, and Frank found himself just watching her. They talked all the time, especially since she'd moved to Bayport, but it had been forever since they'd discussed the specifics of a case together, since she'd wanted to talk about anything having to do with mysteries at all.

For a moment, he let himself fall into a fantasy he'd had many times: that she would quit her job at the cafe and come work with him and Joe, get her own desk across from his and collaborate with them on their cases, just like she used to do. He could definitely get used to seeing her face first thing when he came into the office, to watching her eyes light up as she made some connection or uncovered some important fact...

Nancy studied the puzzle box photo a moment longer before looking over at him. "Looks like some fine detective work, Hardy."

He swore he felt the old, familiar spark when her eyes met his, and it set his heart racing again. Suddenly his mind was filled with more _personal_ fantasies. He tried to ignore the way she was leaning—practically sitting—on his desk, one of her heels propped up on the handle of his bottom drawer, bare knee temptingly exposed... "Thanks, Drew." he returned the expected answer, but there was something low and rough in his voice.

Forget seeing her first thing when he walked into the office—he wanted to see her first thing when he woke up.

It hadn't always been easy, all these months, to give her space when he knew he was in love with her, but he had done it. Until tonight. Tonight, something was different.

He turned his chair then and stood up, so that he was standing directly in front of her. He leaned in close and gently took the papers from her hands, laying them back on the desk with one hand, not moving his body an inch. Even in the dark, he could see the flush that spread over her face. He remembered how she'd looked when he'd kissed her six months ago, vulnerable, unsure.

Now she looked fiery, confident... everything about her that he'd fallen in love with.

He heard her breath hitch. Then she tilted her chin up, closing the space between them until her lips met his.

The heat of the kiss was unbelievable. He'd never experienced anything like it. Not touching her was no longer an option, and he slid his hands over her hips, pulling her against him. She gasped a little, and her hands fluttered over his chest and locked around his neck. He poured his feelings for her into the kiss, and he could feel her responding in kind, matching him movement for movement.

He didn't know how long they kissed for before his logical brain regained control and he tried to pull back. But her arms were still looped around his neck, and she didn't let him go far. She rested her forehead against his, eyes still closed, and said, "Stop thinking that, and kiss me, Hardy."

Frank groaned, pulling his head away but immediately leaning back in to plant a kiss under her ear. "Are you sure?" he whispered.

She was beaming as he brushed light kisses down her neck. "Frank. Don't I seem sure?" she asked. Then her eyes opened and met his again. "Aren't you?"

If there was any doubt in her expression, he erased it with two words. "So sure." he murmured huskily. She sighed blissfully as he kissed her again, and this time, he didn't pull back. Kissing her with no barriers between them, no guilt, no doubts, felt even more amazing than he'd thought it would.

For a time, time ceased to exist, until reality snapped them both back in the form of a car alarm going off down the street. Breathing heavily, they separated, glancing out the window. They looked at each other and laughed.

Frank sighed and sank down in his chair. He pulled Nancy down in his lap, not ready to let go of her just yet. She leaned down and picked up a few of the papers that had fallen off the desk during their passionate embrace. "I guess I distracted you from your work, huh?" she said, leaning into him.

"Definitely." he agreed breathlessly, running his hand up and down her arm. "Of course, I really was about to go home..." he said suggestively, then groaned, letting his forehead fall onto her shoulder. "I can't believe I let Joe live with me. What a stupid thing to do."

Nancy laughed. Then she stopped suddenly. "Frank."

There was a note of urgency in her voice, and Frank looked up, a pang of fear shooting through him. "What is it?" _If she told him this was all a mistake..._

But she leaned in, her mouth nearly touching his ear. "Jill's visiting her parents for the weekend." she said slowly, dragging the sentence out for maximum emphasis. "I have the apartment all to myself."

"Then what are we still doing here?" he said, even as relief washed through him. _God, I love this girl._

She must have read that thought too, because she smiled at him radiantly and pressed another kiss to his lips. She didn't even break the connection as she climbed off his lap, towing him to his feet by one hand.

He reached over with his other hand and switched off his desk lamp, and they left the office together, shutting the door behind them.

* * *

A/N: Thanks again to all my readers for taking this ride with me! Just remember, it's your last chance to review... I would love to know what you thought!


End file.
